One Wish to Make
by egyouppt
Summary: During and post 2x10 It's a look beyond love; it's a look of healing. It's a look that says everything they both already know. Finchel.
1. Real Like Christmas Trees

**A/N: **_Okay so when inspiration hits, it kinda hits hard. I just want to but this disclaimer: This **isn't** a one-shot. So I'm not favoring one character over the other because they both messed up and they both need to learn and grow. That being said, this chapter doesn't actually mention "the look" but the next one will._

Hope you end up enjoying this.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Glee or any of its affiliates. 

* * *

She gets him a Christmas present. She's a Jew but she gets him a Christmas present. And right there he knows this is just not gonna go well.

She says she got him a note. She didn't really. She's giving him a song. A _song._ For _Christmas._ He can't. He can't listen to her sing. Not when her voice is so pretty and so everything he wishes he could have back before it all fell apart. Not when if she sings he's gonna punch stuff or cry or just wanna fall in a hole and stay there for the rest of his life.

He can't forgive. Not yet. _You_ _love her,_ a voice tells him. He ignores it. _You love her,_ it repeats. In his head, he screams _I KNOW!_ That's why. It's why he can't listen to her. He can't forgive her yet. He can't let her force her way into his heart again.

He gives her the note, _the song,_ back. He leaves. She's gonna sing it anyway; he knows it. 'Cause he knows her. Just 'cause she killed him inside doesn't mean he's suddenly forgotten her or everything about her. He has half a mind to watch her silently. He tells that part of his mind to back the fuck off.

Fake Christmas trees. He _hates_ fake Christmas trees. Throughout his life Christmas trees have been real in the way his dad never was, in the way loving someone never was…_until her._ But his mom's real. His family's real and he's gonna go home and the Christmas tree will be real just like Rachel cheating on him is real. _Real._

He can't let her kill his love for Christmas. Not by breaking his heart or trying to make him feel things he's not ready to feel again yet. Not by trying to apologize in front of a forest of artificial Christmas trees. He's had enough artificial in his life. He pushes those thoughts away and his knees kinda buckle when he realizes his first instinct is to think about how she came and helped him through all that shit. Because now she's in there. In those depths of his mind where he doesn't think he can ever let go of all the things people have done to break him. He doesn't want her to apologize anymore because he also knows she means it. More than Quinn ever did. More than _anyone_ ever has.

And really? It just makes things worse. Because if she's _that_ sorry then it all really happened and his life really did come crashing down around him. He just…he thought this was real, you know? It is. _Was._ Sometimes he almost forgets they're not together. How pathetic is that? 'Cause when he closes his eyes, he can still picture the exact shade of her gorgeous eyes and the way they get all huge and emotional. And sometimes he inches his hand forward to softly stroke the familiar texture of her hair before he realizes that nothing's there. _Nothing's there._

Nothing's anywhere, really. Except in her, maybe. 'Cause boy is she full of regret and _I'm so sorry Finn it'll never happen again_ and Christmas apology songs. And he can't let that in because right now he needs there to be nothing.

So he grabs his stuff and slams his locker shut. He ducks his head in the choir room and doesn't see Rachel in there, so it's safe. Santana's in there screwing around with the tree.

"Here," he says, taking the star from her and placing it at the top. She rolls her eyes but says thanks. He guesses maybe the Christmas spirit gets into everyone.

"Do you like Christmas?" he asks.

She gives him this weird look like _why the fuck are you talking to me, Frankenteen?_ But then she shrugs. "Beats the hell outta Hanukkah."

And then his stomach clenches 'cause Hanukkah is Jewish is Rachel is _I can't breathe right now._ He gets up to leave, to go anywhere, but Santana puts a hand on his arm and for a minute she looks genuinely sorry. "I didn't actually mean…Sorry."

But he's had enough with apologies. "Whatever," he says coolly. And breaks away from her grasp.

"So much for Christmas spirit," the Cheerio yells after him.

Finn turns around and really he wants to be in all Christmas mood but there's Rachel being all…Rachely and Santana being all herself and the star is falling off the top of the tree and he sighs and walks over to fix it. And well yeah, he just…what's the point of letting everything ruin his favorite holiday for him?

Santana watches him carefully. "You shoulda just put it on right the first time."

And the way she says it is like two shades less cond—conens—condensing (? Whatever) than usual, so he just frowns a little and says, "Yeah well, at least I can reach it." He's pretty sure it's on the right way this time. So he's fulfilled his Christmas duty and stuff for today and mostly he just wants to go home. She doesn't stop him this time. He silently thanks…God? The Ghost of Christmas Past? Anything. Whatever.

His truck is frozen when he climbs in and he spends five minutes blowing on his hands to warm them up enough to drive. And then he sees her bright red hat through all the white and lets out a slow breath when she only walks past, not even glancing in his direction. He wonders if it's on purpose before he wonders why he can't stop _caring_ if it's on purpose. 'Cause seeing her for those five seconds was enough to send his heart slamming against his ribcage again and he's pretty sure one of these days it's just gonna jump right out and land right in front of her feet. Then she can trample all over it for real.

He lets his head fall to the steering wheel as he cranks the heat higher. He doesn't even realize he's been in his truck for a half hour until he hears this harsh _bang bang bang oh my god shut the fuck up I'm rolling down the window, okay?_ on the driver's side window.

"Dude, open up!"

Finn glares as he rolls the window down. "What the hell are you doing here, asshole?"

Puck rolls his eyes. "I could ask the same, dickwad. Look, I was just—what the fuck? Dude, have you been crying?" He squints at Finn and the quarterback barely resists the urge to suckerpunch him and drive away. Fuck. Had he really been crying? How many times is he gonna lose his shit over her? Puck is still starting at him and he suddenly remembers he should be pounding the douchebag's Mohawk'd head into the pavement. He starts rolling the window up again.

Puck sticks a fist in between the window and frame and Finn nearly growls. Why can't the world just leave him alone with his misery?

"Look, I just wanna talk to you about something." Puck does that stupid thing where he like brings his neck forward a little like he's saying "duh" and Finn wonders how he managed to be best friends with this asswipe for over ten years. He deserves a fucking award for that shit, he thinks absently.

"Yeah, well, I really don't wanna hear it. Just get out of here." He slams the window up, ignoring Puck's curses when the window crushes his hand against the frame. And he finds the motivation to drive home finally.

* * *

"I wanna make this right," she says.

And she does. She loves glee club. But he hears it. The undertone of _me and you. I wanna make _us_ right._ He wants to ignore that part. But he can't really because she's right at least about them needing to do this for the club. 'Cause even though looking at her sends pangs through his whole body, he's a leader. And the only way to be a real leader is to prove it; he's learned _that_ lesson.

"Yeah," he agrees. 'Cause if he says anything more, it's like saying yes to _everything more. _So he tells her he'll go over details with her after lunch because he's got to…well, he's got to go do…something. Bye Rachel. And he rushes out of the choir room. He's really got to stop saying _yes_ to her when he knows it's only gonna make him feel worse. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he tries to shrug it off.

But then before he knows it, he's meeting Rachel at a Christmas tree lot. They're real this time. He can smell them. But somehow, it's not as comforting as it used to be. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about getting Rachel to celebrate Christmas with him this year; their first _real_ Christmas as a _real_ couple. He'd planned to take her here, let her pick her favorite tree, to bring her home so she could help decorate. Rachel loves details. He was gonna let her do all these fancy things with the Christmas window sticker things he bought 'cause he just _knew_ she'd love cutting them and making them fit where and when and how. But then there was that time when she's telling him how she…and there's just all this pain because not again and _why_ is it _always_ Puck? So then his plans for Christmas changed. To sulking, hurting, pretending he isn't missing her when his mom and Kurt and Burt ask.

He looks around at the trees, then sniffs because…wait, Rachel…and she's wearing this pine scented car air freshener and doesn't she think maybe she's trying too hard? 'Cause Rachel is supposed to smell like Rachel. Not Christmas trees. That's the whole point of having a Christmas tree because _they_ smell like Christmas trees. Not girls in red coats with air fresheners in the pocket. And she's like clinging to his arm now and normally he'd wanna be like, yeah you're right it _is_ cold out. And where did he learn the word "unseasonably" anyway?

She goes into this speech about how Christmas trees are the foundation of Christmas and stuff and like, she's Jewish so how does she even know all this? Then he remembers that she's Rachel and she kinda knows everything and if she doesn't know, she finds a way to know. And he probably smiles this little bit 'cause she's getting all into it and well…she _is_ right. "Whenever we put the tree up, I always think Christmas is really here," he tells her as he grabs on to a tree behind him. And it's way too small, like really. Sure, he's a tall guy and everything, but even short people have standards when it comes to Christmas trees too.

All right, seriously? Can he go _anywhere_ without there being some sappy Christmas song that makes him all depressed on? Did she like pay the dude at the radio to put this song on? Whatever. It's not a _bad_ song. Usually. Except when it reminds him of Rachel and Rachel and Rachel and Rachel cheating on him. But he kinda thinks he's getting good at like internalizing that for the most part, 'cause he tells her it's cool and he thinks it actually kinda sounds pretty convincing. He's a little surprised that she listens to him when he tells her to look at the Douglases. But he'll take it.

Okay yeah so this is classic Rachel right here. Singing and just…fuck, her singing is super hard to ignore. 'Cause there's this like, thing with him where he has the hardest time resisting forming a duet with her, even when he can barely stand to be around her. Just keep checking out the Christmas trees, he tells himself. Like, inspect them hardcore. Ignore her ignore her ignore her ignore her. Fuck. He totally cracks. And they're singing together even if it's like awkward 'cause they're on separate rows of trees, but even then he can't forget how _perfect_ their voices sound together.

So he's like kinda staring at her. Into her? Singing this song about heartbreak and all. And that's a little too much so he moves away again. But then he looks at her face again and he knows he's doing a piss poor job at hiding the pain of doing so. But you know what? It's cool. She deserves to know she hurt him.

"Last year for Christmas, I asked Santa to give me you." Her voice is all soft and warm and—wait, she's Jewish. Why was she being all Christmasy _last_ year? Doesn't matter, he tells himself. He can't let it matter. Just like he can't let it matter that if she'd said that two weeks ago, he would have been all grinning and kissing her wildly 'cause she's so adorable. But now it just hurts. Now it's just—her lips? Oh, God. He's missed her, missed this, wants this, wants—no. _No._ Because then he's pushing her away and it kind of hurts to breathe and she looks like…she looks like he looked when she told him. Kind of. Except how can really understand?

"It's not last year anymore." And it's not. It doesn't even feel like _this_ year anymore. And all she wants is forgiveness. It's Christmas she tells him. It's time. Time to forgive. Time to forget and act like it never happened like she never tried to spite him by making out with Puck and saying it's the same thing as when he slept with Santana when they _weren't together._

He can't. He can't _he can't he can't he can't I love you Rachel but I can't._ He stutters a little 'cause it hurts to say, just like he knows it hurts her to hear. But she just doesn't get it. So he explains. Like the only way he can. How this is wrong and they shouldn't be here because _you messed me up, Rachel._ But she doesn't see, doesn't get it, doesn't understand. The only two girlfriends he's ever had in his life have cheated on him and he really really really _really_ wanted…wants…wanted…whatever to get past it but it's too soon. It's too clear in his mind still. He's all messed up. And if she can't even see what she's done to him, how's he supposed to try and forgive her?

"I'm a officially breaking up with you," he says and breaks both their hearts. Again.

Then he walks away and leaves her standing in a parking lot full of Christmas trees as real as the pain in his chest. It's over. Really over. Real Christmas trees. Real heartbreak. _It's all real._

He almost wishes his mom bought a fake tree this year.

* * *

_Yes? No? Should I just give up here? Lemme know. Reviews = love. _


	2. If It Works

**A/N: **_This is dedicated to my loving wifey, Politics(dot)and(dot)Prose (P.S. your penname is infuriating, bb)_

_And mucho thanks to i-am-a-dork for beta-ing and being my braintwin. I hope you all enjoy this chapter._

_Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Glee or its affiliates._

* * *

Nothing works. She tries to give him gifts. She tries to give him something real. He always just says no. She already gave him her heart, but it doesn't seem like he wants that either.

He keeps saying he's let her apologize plenty of times. But in fact, he has _not._ Sure, _technically_ he's been present for her apologies, but she can tell from the look on his face that he's not really listening. And if he won't _listen,_ he'll never be able to _see._ That she's never regretted anything as much as she regrets breaking his trust; betraying him. That she will do _anything_ to prove that she loves him and only him more than she ever thought she'd be able to love anyone. That she falls apart every time she looks into his eyes and sees him not forgiving her. _That it never ends._

She thinks about the necklace she left in her locker as she sits at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen. She's supposed to be writing an essay about Native American literature, but she's had the same two-hundred-thirty-three and a half words for the last two hours. The worst part is that she barely cares about being completely unproductive. And while it's not in her nature to procrastinate, she fears this assignment will have to wait until later because she just can't focus on anything right now apart from how completely awful last night went.

Okay, so perhaps she went a tad overboard with the car freshener, but she just wants a _chance._ How many chances had she given him over the past year? And he can't even find with within himself to just hear her out for five minutes? She's not addle-brained; she knows she's never made a bigger mistake in her life. She knows she's hurt him possibly irrevocably. But there are a lot of things _he_ doesn't seem to understand.

He thinks she did what she did just to be mean. (And though she won't ever admit it to anyone, a small part of her was trying to spite him). But it's more than that. Because her feelings for him are more than _anything._ She hadn't been able to explain her hurt in with any sort of coherence because it had been just so…_overpowering._ And Noah had been there and she had thought _maybe_ if he found her attractive, then maybe _Finn_ would too. She'll never look like Santana, she's started to come to terms with that now. But just then…it had just been to infuriating. And…and…_hurtful._ After all she'd done to try to convince him that he's hot and has no reason to be self-conscious and he'd told her she was hot and desirable. And yet, he hadn't been able to tell her that he'd had sex. _With Santana._ She's not sure there's a bigger insult to her pride than that.

She wishes he could understand, too, why she isn't as worried about the fact that he's engaged in sexual intercourse or even that he lied about it to her as she is that he would do such a thing with such a…_person_. (If it's fair to call Santana Lopez a human being). Not that she was at all _pleased_ that he'd lied to her about his sexual history. But she'd have gotten over it much more easily if he hadn't picked the one person who _tries to destroy her on a daily basis._ So yes, in her fit of rage and despair, she'd taken advantage of Noah's kindness, though admittedly she had felt an intense amount of relief when he'd walked away. And then she'd gotten so angry and disappointed in herself for not being the one to end it and then for starting it in the first place. She hadn't _meant_ to let her emotions get a hold of her, but old habits die hard and all that.

She really thought she had him last night; he'd lowered his guard some. She should have known not to rush him, but if she's being honest with herself, she doesn't know how to live with herself without him. He's shown her this whole world of herself and outside of herself that she's found she can't let go of. And so she continuously tries to nudge him in the direction of forgiving her. But he doesn't seem to be having any of it. And since she's Rachel Berry, it only fuels her determination further.

She sighs and moves away from her desk, gently pushing her chair in before moving toward her dresser. She knows when she opens the top drawer, she's going to find the pictures they had taken when he took her to the field days in September. And she knows looking at it is going to make her heart ache for the happiness it used to hold. But she also knows she deserves some of the misery, so she takes the picture of anyway and stares sadly at it until her dads call her down for dinner.

* * *

The next day at school, she realizes he's avoiding her. Not that before he was particularly seeking her out, but they had managed to get along well enough when they had to. But he'd seen her in the hall earlier and quickly changed directions.

She frowns as she puts her chemistry book away and pulls out her lunch bag. Ever since Mr. Schue had forced them to roll around in wheel chairs three hours a day and someone had managed to spill some sort of clam chowder-resembling soup on her face and in her hair, she'd been packing her own lunch. She sees him hurriedly stride past her on his way to the cafeteria, quickly glancing away from her. She starts to follow him when she notices the captain of the Cheerios resting against the locker next to hers. Rachel's brow furrows.

"Can I, um, help you with something, Quinn?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Look," she says, as if she's trying really hard to be nice. Then again, Rachel thinks, she probably _does_ need to put forth extreme effort to be nice. "I don't really like you, but I _do_ like glee club and as much as it pains me to admit it, we can't really do it without you. And if you're sitting around like a lost puppy, you're not really helping us."

"Well, I'm sorry if my dealing with some _personal issues_ interferes with your standing in the club," Rachel begins.

The Cheerio shifts and props her hand against the wall of lockers, cutting Rachel off before she goes into psycho-rant mode. She holds up a hand. "Just calm down, okay, Ally McBeal? I get that you're upset about all this. I do," she insists when she sees the look on Rachel's face. "And I can't believe I'm asking this, but what even happened between you two? 'Cause it seems like _he's_ the one who broke up with you."

"He did," Rachel says softly, too softly for Quinn to have heard. She feels the tears start to gather in her eyes and closes her locker, glancing briefly at Quinn before making her way down the hall.

Quinn watches her with a frown, feeling an unwelcome bit of sympathy for Rachel, despite her better judgment.

* * *

Rachel stares at herself in the mirror as she wipes at her eyes furiously. It's so _embarrassing_ to have people question what happened between her and Finn. And it forces her to relive the breakup over and over and _over_ again. She _knows_ it's mostly her fault. She doesn't want to think about that part anymore.

And why was Quinn asking her about it anyway? Since when does _she_ care? The whole club's wanted nothing but to see her miserable for as long as she can remember. Looks like they've finally gotten their way.

* * *

Finn bites into his chicken patty mechanically, eating because he knows he has to; chewing 'cause it's just a bodily reaction. He's sitting with Mike and Tina, who are being all disgustingly couple-y. And Brittany and Artie who are being all disgustingly couple-y. And then Quinn walks in and sits next to Same so now _they're_ being all gross and couple-y. And all he wants is to be wrapped in his own little world where he and Rachel are all couple-y and he doesn't even notice that anyone else is being couple-y. But he can't and he knows he can't so he swallows his last bit of sandwich and gets up, leaving his half-eaten lunch on the table.

"Dude, what's up?" Sam asks.

"Just not hungry," Finn answers tiredly. He scans the crowd in the lunch room, but he doesn't see her. He can't decide if that makes him feel relief or anguish. He's not really sure it makes a difference since he can't pinpoint what either of those things feel like anymore. He's kind of given up trying to feel anything because it just makes him depressed and he needs to feel something more positive than that when it's so close to Christmas.

It's weird. He'd been so excited to give gifts and shit this year, but now it's like whatever because the one person he'd been most excited to give a present to…well, he'd sort of cut her out of his life. As much as it's possible to cut the love out of your life, anyway. Which, as he's discovered, is not much and that only annoys him further. He doesn't really know that much about Hanukkah, but he'd been doing a little research. It seems futile now because Hanukkah is over just like he and Rachel are over. And fuck, he really needs to stop thinking like this 'cause it's just getting redundant.

He slams the side of his fist into the row of lockers and then curses his stupidity. He sighs and scrubs his other hand through his hair, his head turning when he notices someone watching him. He quirks a brown in Quinn's direction 'cause did she follow him? Or what? He hasn't really talked to her in a while, at least not about anything important. She bites her lip like she's holding back on saying something before she shakes her head and walks away in the opposite direction. Okay. That's weird. Finn purses his lips, unsure what that was all about. He shrugs to himself. Girls are weird, he thinks. He's just gonna have to accept that.

He doesn't see Rachel the rest of the day, but he hears her crying as he reaches the parking lot. It takes all his strength and willpower and all that other macho stuff not to rush over to her and ask what's wrong. 'Cause you see, he's _gotta_ make it seem like he doesn't care, even though he really, really does. Because if she knows how much he still _thinks about worries wants loves_ her, she has the power to open the wounds in his heart again. And he can't give that to her yet. So he scrunches his eyes shut and tries to find his car through the storm.

As he's driving, he can't help but wonder what upset Rachel so much and gives up trying to convince himself it's wrong. Of course, there's the obvious because _he's_ upset about that, too. But he knows her and she was crying in the way that means it's something that set her off in that moment and he wonders if there's some dick he's gotta punch the fuck out. He pulls into his driveway and groans, resting his head against the back of the seat. It feels like no matter how much he tells himself to get over her, she still consumes all these parts of his life. But fuck, doesn't his brain get it? _They're over._ He loves her so much, but she just…he can't understand _why._ It doesn't matter why he tells himself, it just _doesn't make sense_ to him. She cheated on him! _With Puck!_ How's he supposed to just let that go?

_You cheated on Quinn,_ that small voice in his head whispers. He ignores it again; tells himself that's different.

_You cheated on Quinn when you thought she was pregnant with your baby._ "Fuck!" he yells. At the steering wheel. At the voice in his head. At the pain in his chest. At Rachel who isn't there. At life. He's so _tired_ of all this. He already knows he cheated on Quinn. Newsflash! She cheated on him, too! And like, okay, he still feels bad he ever did that to Quinn but he would _never never never never never_ do that to Rachel. Why does it always seem like life is just trying to make him more miserable now? Does he deserve it? He thinks maybe he might. But he also thinks he's entitled to stew in some self pity for a while, too.

He walks into the house, his eyes immediately flashing to the lights of the Christmas tree. He sighs heavily and drops his backpack on the floor, knowing his mom will just tell him later to move it, but not caring. It's weird and probably like girly or something, but he really loves Christmas lights. You really can't have a Christmas tree without the lights and he remembers talking to Rachel a few weeks ago about how even though she's Jewish, she finds Christmas lights beautiful and, like, intriguing or something. He'd been planning to take her around town and show her some of the more badass ones on his side of town. But then…_shit._ Why is it, no matter what, every train of thought leads right back to _Rachel?_

He takes a deep breath 'cause he already knows the answer.

* * *

Rachel decides wiping her eyes with snow-covered gloves is _not_ efficient. She doesn't even know how to explain what exactly is wrong with her. Ever since she'd talked with Quinn earlier that day, she'd been crying off and on. Mostly on, actually. And she's just _exhausted_ of feeling like this. She doesn't know what to do anymore. What's even left? She bites her lip, moving to stand under the doorway of the school, protected from the snowfall. She sees Quinn come out of the building and the Cheerio stops, looking at her. Rachel turns her face away, surprised when Quinn rolls her shoulders and walks up to her.

Rachel highly doubts anything good is going to come of this, but since there's nowhere else to wait for her dads, she supposes she just has to deal with it. She'd gotten adept at ignoring Quinn when she had to. Quinn looks like she's searching for the right words to say.

"You'll have to forgive him eventually," she says quietly. "I mean, he's kind of an idiot, but he's a good guy."

Rachel turns toward her, giving her a sharp look. "Finn is _not_ an idiot, Quinn. Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean I appreciate you speaking about him in such a manner." She crosses her arms over her chest, hugging her coat closer around her and wishing her dads would hurry.

"Whatever. Anyway, as gross as you two are, you're the leaders of the club and we function better when you're not pissed at him for sleeping with Santana. Seriously, please get over it already. Don't you think glee club's had enough drama already?

Rachel lets out a shaky breath and murmurs, "I did forgive him."

Quinn eyes the shorter girl warily. "Then what the hell happened?" she demands.

Rachel stares out at the snowflakes, wondering if it's worth telling her or not. But given the way Finn's business with Santana went around, she figures her own with Puck would go the same way. And if everyone found out and if _Finn_ found out everyone knew, then he would absolutely never forgive her. And she doesn't think she can live with that. So instead she asks bitterly, "Would it make a difference?"

Quinn plants a hand on her hip. "It might."

"Why don't you ask Puckerman?" she snarls angrily, wiping at her eyes again. "Obviously you have no problem gleaning information from him." She sniffs and shoulders her bag, walking quickly to her daddy's car as he pulls into the parking lot.

The Cheerio frowns yet again, still unable to piece together what happened between Finn and Rachel and wondering why she even gives a damn.

* * *

She tries to understand why Quinn is on her case about this so much. But she's finding it impossible to conclude anything rational, so for the first time in her life, Rachel gives up.

She decides to take a walk, hoping the fresh air will help clear her mind. Grabbing her coat, she calls goodbye to her fathers and opens the door, blinking as the brisk wind chills her. She looks around at all the Christmas lights that have been put up on the houses on her street, sighing sadly because they remind her of Finn. But then, most things remind her of Finn in some way or another, so unfortunately she's used to that by now.

There's a house with pretty white side paneling and green Christmas lights hung up in the shape of a Christmas tree, a small strand of yellow lights forming a star at the top. Her eyes start to glisten and she snaps a picture of it on her phone, curbing her impulse to text it to Finn because she knows he would just _love_ it. She still hopes someday they can put up Christmas lights together. Sure, he'd consented to raising children in the Jewish faith. But she'd learned over the months she had been with him that compromise was necessary, so her she'd mentally adjusted her plans into allowing Christmas lights and a tree and all sorts of beautiful decorations. Maybe even a small tradition, though that would remain to be seen, of course. She hadn't gotten the chance to tell him any of this and now she doubts that she ever will.

She bites her lip and glances dolefully at the next house, the lights poorly managed and dull. In a way, it's sort of fitting though, she thinks. She doesn't really want or deserve beautiful things right now. She's not above admitting she'd been wrong. And she _had_ admitted it. Several times. But it doesn't stop the small part of her that feels like maybe he deserves some pain too from making itself known. He could have _told_ her. At any time really, and especially when she'd told him about _her_ lie. She still would have been angry and upset; no use in kidding herself about that. But at least they could be mad at each other and independent of the rest of the club knowing and _humiliating _ her.

It still sends a rush of gall through her bloodstream to think of the possibility that he'd told someone. Anyone. Oh, yes, as it turned out Kurt didn't find out from Finn. But the fact that he couldn't remember if he'd told Kurt or not makes her think he had indeed told _someone._ And who could that possibly have been? Noah? She's not sure, but how would that hold up? Finn and Noah barely even talked and it seems more likely that Noah would have found out from Santana, given their…relationship. But it worries her because _she's_ supposed to be the one he tells all of his embarrassing or upsetting truths to. Well, she _was_ supposed to be, anyway.

What hurts the most though is how he could just _give up_ so easily. Perhaps they hadn't hit any spots rougher than this before. She hates that she knew how fragile he still is when it comes to his issues with Quinn and Noah and she deliberately disregarded them. And she hates that technically she'd cheated on him. But even though she'd been wearing her _Finn_ necklace, she hadn't been entirely certain of the state of their relationship. And she's well aware that such intense negative emotions tend to cloud judgment. Analyzing it now, she can see how what Finn did with Santana and what she did with Noah aren't actually the same; they don't _really _cancel each other out. But it seems easy to justify irrational behavior in the heated moments of jealousy and despair and heartbreak. But regretting something can't take it back, so she needs a way to focus on her future. _Their_ future.

She can't give up on hoping they still have one.

* * *

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" Quinn corners Rachel as she's getting ready to leave. "Seriously? Do you not learn from _anyone?_"

"Quinn," Rachel says with exaggerated patience. "Just back off. This doesn't concern you." She shouldn't have mentioned Noah, she thinks. But nothing to be done about that now.

"Rachel." Quinn takes a deep breath. "As stupid and ridiculous as I think you are for doing this, it's not like I can't say I haven't been there."

"Um, I don't think our cases are all that similar, actually," Rachel tells her stiffly, primly shutting her locker.

"Whatever. Anyway, look, you just need to give him time, okay? He just needs to think."

"Is that what you did?" Rachel asks softly.

The Cheerio stares at her, confused. "What?"

Rachel frowns. Is it possible that she doesn't know about what occurred between Finn and Rachel while he was dating Quinn? She supposes so. "I mean, when Finn…with me…did you forgive him?"

"When Finn _what _with you?" Quinn raises a brow in question, looking at Rachel intensely.

Rachel purses her lips. Looks like Quinn _hadn't_ known. This is unfortunate. "Finn and I kissed twice while he was dating you," she says coolly, ignoring the flutter of guilt in her chest.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" She starts to storm off, but Rachel hurries after her.

"Look, Quinn. I truly am sorry for it and I know Finn is, too. But it's not as if you can be upset about this because not only are you not together anymore, but in case you forgot, you cheated on him as well!"

Quinn turns around suddenly, one corner of her mouth turned up maliciously. "Yeah? So did you."

Rachel opens her mouth like she's going to say something, but what is there to say? She _did_ cheat on Finn. And it would be just like Quinn to make her feel even more terrible about it and about herself. Her lower lip wobbles and she turns her face away. The taller girl sighs. "All right. Rachel, wait."

She looks up, wringing her hands. "Jesus, how stupid can you be?" Quinn asks seriously. "No, wait," she says again as Rachel starts walking the other way. "I really don't know what to tell you because you messed up even worse than I did."

Rachel stares at Quinn blankly. "Worse than _you_ did? How? Yes, I certainly did make a mistake in what I did, but you _slept_ with him! And you let Finn think _he_ was the father when you knew he wasn't. How is what I did any worse than that?"

"Because Finn didn't _love_ me, Einstein." She takes a breath and this time when she speaks, her voice is softer. "Or if he did, he was never in love with me like he is with you. I don't know if he's fully forgiven me, but we're okay. It's not gonna be that easy for you and him because for whatever reasons, he's seems to think you're God's gift to the universe." She rolls her eyes. "And you're only shoving it in his face every time you go pathetically chasing after him. Just back off and give him time to think. That'll show him you're sorry and you love him more than forcing him to deal with it every time he sees you. And then you can go back to being all nasty and in love and the glee club will go back to normal so we can win Regionals this year. Okay? Okay." And with that, the Cheerio saunters away to go…do whatever it is she does.

Rachel stares after her for a moment, mulling over Quinn's…advice? Would that be an accurate description? Maybe Quinn's right, she thinks, as much as it pains her. She'll sleep on it, she decides. And see if the night reveals any monstrous epiphanies.

* * *

Finn frowns at Ms. Sylvester. She wants the glee club to meet at Mr. Schue's on Christmas Eve. He's not saying no, but he doesn't understand why. "It's Christmas," she says simply and walks out. He's kinda afraid to cross her and maybe doing this for Mr. Schue will bring some Christmas cheer and everything. Just cause _he_ has to be alone on Christmas doesn't mean everyone else should be too.

He sucks absently on his candy cane and looks around the group, everyone talking quietly amongst themselves. That's cool too, he decides. He has some ideas he needs to run by everyone, but that can wait 'til later. Besides, they have a few days to prepare anyway. He's grateful he'll have a bit of a distraction for the first half of Christmas break, planning and sorting details of this present or whatever to Mr. Schue. Now he has something else to focus on besides the _pain ache hurt fury regret guilt God Rachel you're terrible but I miss you so much_ like he normally does.

He wonders if maybe it's cause Ms. Sylvester was there for their teachers' performance earlier. People always think he's dumb and stuff and they're not, like, _totally_ wrong but one thing he's learned is that when people have a lot of basic assumptions about a person, they usually have a lot of layers in reality. Just look at him. There's more to him than anyone's ever thought. Well, anyone besides…_shut those thoughts down, Finn,_ he orders himself. Just get over it. And over her.

He scrunches his eyes tightly and when he opens them again, he pretends like things are okay for the moment. He's gonna go home, go over his ideas and not think about even when you love someone and give them your whole heart, they still find a way to screw you over. Nope. He's not even gonna allow one fleeting thought of that. He glances around and starts when he realizes he doesn't see her. Before he can dwell on it too much though, he hears a voice call his name.

He turns his head around. "Yeah?"

"So what's your proposal on all this gift for Mr. Schue crap?" Santana asks him. He rolls his eyes and motions to the rest of the club to circle round.

"So, here's what I was thinking…"

* * *

She leaves rehearsal a little early because there's too much on her mind and too much in her heart. She's got ideas of her own, but she knows everyone is going to go to Finn first. And maybe that's better. Maybe he needs this; this is a Christmas present she's perfectly capable of giving him. And he won't even know, so he'll gladly accept.

She can't get Quinn's words out of her head. Is this a plausible approach? Stepping back? But since when does Rachel Berry step back from anything? It's just part of her nature to chase after what she wants. Then again, she'd wanted to hurt Finn, wanted to make herself feel better and she'd chased after that and look where it's gotten her. In the end, she goes back to her original idea of just sleeping on it. She'll think more rationally when she's fully rested as it is.

She lies in bed, crying herself to sleep because she can't stop thinking about how she spent her birthday alone. Her fathers had been there, of course. But all the cheer and frivolity she'd put on had all been a veneer and they'd known it. So they had quietly excused themselves and given her time to sulk. And even though it was three days ago, she feels even worse now, Quinn's talk still floating around in her mind.

If she'd backed off a while ago, would they have been together or at least on their way to getting there in order to celebrate her birthday together? She doesn't know, doesn't think she can face the answer. Well, it doesn't matter now. "Winter Recess" starts tomorrow and this would give her the perfect opportunity to see if she can follow Quinn's advice. And to see if it will work. She tries to close her eyes again.

* * *

Finn yawns as he moves the covers of his bed aside. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and he's run their plan by everyone a few times. Ms. Sylvester had changed a few things and he'd let her 'cause she's one scary ass lady and the last thing he needs is to piss her off. But he figures it will all go well enough as it is, so he isn't gonna worry about it.

He looks at his pathetic excuse for a bed that he barely fits on anymore and wonders if it will still be like this when he and his mom move in with Burt and Kurt—in a new house. His mom is always telling him about how it's like a new chapter of their lives. But he thinks maybe he needs like ten new chapters. Maybe even a whole new book. Because then he'd be different and everything would be different and he wouldn't feel so goddamn _miserable hopeless just all around shitty how could you _do_ that to me Rachel?_ all the time. He sighs 'cause he's one of those masso-kiss-tick people or whatever 'cause he's still got the birthday card and the present he never gave her sitting on his desk. He hasn't been able to bring himself to trash them. Just like he hasn't been able to bring himself to give them to her.

He'd spent her birthday in a haze of depression. He'd stopped going through everything else to argue with himself if he should apologize and be there for her birthday, since he'd known how special it was to her to finally have someone to celebrate it with her. And in the end he'd just chickened out. 'Cause as much as he wants to hate her right now, without Rachel, he's still just that stupid jock. He's still just a coward.

* * *

Rachel arranges her sugar cookies on a pretty plate she'd found in Mr. Schue's china cabinet. She'd baked a double batch, which she finds is proving to be a good idea since the glee club's already devoured half of them. Her first instinct is to place all the ones with green sprinkles on the left side and the ones with red sprinkles on the right, but Brittany tells her that's boring. So she does a more _tasteful_ arrangement, glowering at Mike as he snags another one and completely ruins her masterpiece. Sighing, she changes the placement of them and shoots a grin over her shoulder at Mike to let him know she's not actually upset. He smiles back and starts feeding the cookie to Tina.

She looks away, her stomach tensing at the thought that she and Finn can do no such things this year. This is the first time she's seen him since their last day of school. He's wearing that blue vest she can never decide if she likes or not, but he looks like he's having a good time. And it's such a stark contrast from the misery she notices in his eyes when she's with him that she gets the feeling Quinn might have been right. For real. So she does her best to keep her distance.

When Ms. Sylvester blows her whistle, Rachel leads them out, carrying her plate of cookies, rolling her eyes as the cheerleading coach insults Mr. Schue and tells them to "get some Christmas up in here." She sets down her tray and carefully picks up a candy cane, placing it on the tree with ease. She surveys her work and smiles when she catches Finn's eye. Crushing all her urges to talk to or kiss him, she just looks back at the task at hand and takes the next decoration. She hopes he'll find it in his heart to realize she's just trying to look out for him.

* * *

He really loves decorating trees. Enough to kinda ease the pain of being alive in his current state. He laughs at something Sam says, though he's not sure if he actually gets it or not.

His eyes get wary when he sees her smile at him. Actually, he's kind of surprised he hasn't heard from her. She hasn't texted or called or shown up at his house. So he guesses he should have known it wouldn't last. But then she just turns her pretty smile away and goes back to doing whatever it is she's doing. And that's when he realizes she's doing it on purpose—staying away from him, that is. She's giving him space and all that.

So that's also when he realizes he's gonna do it. He doesn't know how or when or any of those specific things yet, but he knows. He's gonna do it. He's gonna forgive her.

So even though she's not paying attention anymore, he smiles back.

* * *

_I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. Thanks so much for all your support and encouragement. I appreciate it immensely. =)_

_Reviews = love. _


	3. The Maybes

**A/N:** _I wanted to have this chapter up sooner, but life interferes and this fic tends to write and re-write itself._

_Anyway, thanks so much for reading and reviewing and I hope you like! And thanks to MaraMac for beta-ing. ^^_

_Disclaimer: Still don't own Glee. If I did, there wouldn't be a reason for this fic to exist in the first place._  


* * *

  
"I swear, Finn, if this explodes in my face, I'm going to burn all the clothes in your wardrobe," Kurt says seriously.

Finn grins briefly. "Yeah, well it's not that big of a deal 'cause I don't spend two hundred bucks for a clip on raccoon tail and shit. They're just clothes."

His step-brother's eyes bug out. "_Just_ clothes? Finn, don't be ridiculous! Every moment of your life is begging you to make a statement about yourself and fashion is the perfect vessel in which to do that. _Anyway,_" he goes on. "I'll snap your drumsticks in half, then."

Finn frowns. Kurt couldn't even snap his part of the wish bone at Thanksgiving, why does he think he can snap a wooden drumstick in half? But he shakes his head and humors the smaller boy. "Just open it, Kurt."

Kurt carefully tears the paper off the poorly-wrapped box, sliding his fingers under the tape. It reminds Finn a lot of how Rachel always opens presents like that; she always preserves the wrapping paper, like, out of respect or whatever. He winces at the stray thought of her and just shakes his head when Kurt asks him what's wrong.

But Kurt's not an idiot; he knows what's wrong. Rachel had filled him in teary-eyed after he'd mistakenly asked how she and Finn were coping with the mess that happened around Sectionals. He doesn't press the issue any further yet. Instead, he opens the box, smiling at the gift inside.

"I have a feeling you asked Mercedes what to get me." Kurt arches a perfectly-trimmed eyebrow at him.

Finn shrugs. "It was either that or something I took out of the refrigerator early this morning."

His step brother scoffs and sets the box down. "That makes me feel extremely welcome." He fixes Finn with a dry look and the quarterback's face falls.

"No, Kurt. I really am glad you were able to get home for Christmas. It woulda sucked if you were stuck at school 'cause of crappy roads." He slings an arm around Kurt and his step-brother looks at him pointedly.

"Finn if you're going to hug me, you may as well do it the correct way," he says, bringing both his arms around the taller boy's back.

Finn laughs a little and engulfs Kurt in a hug. "Merry Christmas, dude," he says.

Kurt pulls away, smiling, and makes sure his hair is still perfectly coiffed. "Merry Christmas to you too, Finn."

He looks under the tree and notices another wrapped gift. He leans down to pick it up. "Kurt, _don't,_" Finn warns him.

But he does. Finn's step brother looks at him sadly. "You're still in love with her." It's not a question.

Finn stares at him blankly for a second. "Of course, I am!" he says angrily. "Just because she stole my heart and then smashed it to pieces doesn't mean I suddenly forgot about her!" He kicks at the couch and Kurt frowns at him. His voice is quiet now. "It doesn't mean I don't miss her all the time." It's weird, he thinks. To be _talking_ about how he feels, instead of just feeling it. Maybe it's a good thing. They're always saying talking helps. He doesn't know if that's true, but Kurt's his brother now and it's a start.

"Finn…"

But Finn goes on, not even listening to Kurt. "And every time I try to do…_anything_, it's like she's just _there._" Man, he's really messed up, isn't he? He's still mad at her. But it's not the burning-in-his-chest-I-hate-you-how-am-I-ever-gonna-forgive-you? anger anymore. It's the _I wish I didn't still love you but there's no way around it_ kind of anger. The painful kind. The kind that's harder to stomach because he _can_ get over it. And it terrifies him.

"Where is she?" Kurt asks him.

Finn looks at him, taken aback. "I don't know." How's he supposed to know? What do Jews do on Christmas? What does _Rachel_ do on any day she's not with him? He's never had to think about it much, at least not for a while. Because she was never without him in some way, and even if she was, all he had to do was send her a text. And then he gave up caring (_lies,_ that voice tells him. _Go away,_ he demands. It never listens.) so he never asked.

And he gets this little flutter in his chest 'cause maybe he _does_ want to know. He's not used to her not following him around. Maybe it was subconscious, but at least when she was on him all the time, he…he _knew._ He knew she was safe, even if it never registered 'cause all he was getting was that her eyes were so brown and so deep and if he didn't look away, she might kill him. Maybe it's different now.

She's not here. It's finally really hit him. Is this what the beginning of forgiveness feels like? He doesn't know. He thinks maybe it is. "Thank you," he says quietly. Kurt gives him a look that says _what the hell are you talking about?_ "For not taking sides or anything.

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Please," he says seriously. "I'd rather wear clothes from Target than get in between your lover's quarrel." He shakes his head slightly.

Finn knows he's probably not kidding, but he appreciates it all the same. He thinks maybe he'll see Rachel sometime this week 'cause there are only so many places in Lima and he's bound to run into her at some point. And maybe if/when he does, he won't feel like crying.

He sets her box back down under the tree. He doesn't know how long it'll stay there. But it's not in the trash or buried under his bed. So that's progress enough for him.

* * *

It's cold out, but that doesn't bother her. Apart from that, it's actually a rather nice day. She brushes snow from a park bench with a gloved hand and primly sits down. Glancing around the park, she smiles at the families playing in the snow, children tugging their sleds over to their parents. She sighs because this is the kind of life she wants with Finn, but she doesn't think it's going to happen anymore. She'd been giving him his space, but it doesn't make anything hurt any less. In fact, he seems to accept the space gladly because he hasn't approached her or anything.

She thought she'd done right at Mr. Schue's Christmas party when she just turned away, but now she doesn't know. She shrugs a little to herself, knowing the only thing left for her to do is wait, even if it would make her heart ache every day. It's a strange feeling. She hasn't felt truly alone since she met Finn, since he'd become a part of her life even when he wasn't really _hers._ Even when all he did was hurt her and hurt her and try to push her away, he was still _there._ She was still in his head and he was still around, even if it was only to sneak a longing or apologetic glance at her.

At least then she hadn't felt so _helpless._ She's placed the blame on herself; she _gets_ that. She knows she can be egotistical and bossy, but she can admit when she knows she's wrong. So it's not as if she's waiting for him to come and apologize to her; she doesn't deserve it anyway. Not anymore. The thing about being Rachel Berry is that there's no way to ever _not_ be Rachel Berry. And Finn's the only one who ever _really_ understood that, understood _her._ But then he was there, stuttering blindly and protecting himself and _not_ understanding why she was so upset about _Santana._

She thought there was only one way to _make_ him understand, but she overcompensated and miscalculated and made a mess out of everything. A part of her thinks maybe, _maybe_ she should have given him more credit. Maybe the Santana part wasn't as big a deal to him as it was to her. But really, how was she supposed to know that? It's not like he ever _said_ anything about how he felt about it, about _Santana._ He admitted he lied about it and shouldn't have. She doesn't think that would have been enough for her to immediately forgive him. That is, if she hadn't messed up even worse than he had.

She thought it would be so simple. He'd apologized, so she would apologize. He loved her, so he'd forgive her like she'd forgiven him. But that's what happens when you think with your heart, with your foolishly insecure heart and not your head, she thinks now. You realize nothing's as simple as it ought to be. Love is wonderful, love is absolutely breath-taking.

Love is power.

Power to help, to heal. To create.

Power to hurt, to break. To destroy.

She realizes this now. Maybe he mostly didn't do what he did (or didn't do) to hurt her. And maybe a part of her reasoning for what she did was to spite him. Neither of them were right, she thinks. They both fell victim to their insecurities and in the end, they hurt each other. He was the catalyst, it's true. But maybe if she hadn't stormed off, maybe if she hadn't acted like there was no way for him to make it up to her, maybe he wouldn't have _stopped_ trying to make it up to her. Maybe she wouldn't have been so blinded by the fact he'd slept with _Santana_ and if he'd looked a little deeper into why she was so upset, maybe they would have been strong enough to get through it without her needing to prove anything. It all comes down to maybes.

It's too late now.

She doesn't blame him. Well, she _does._ But only for what he can actually be blamed for. He'd driven her to desperation, but ultimately, it had been up to her how she handled it. And she'd handled it wrong. And now he doesn't trust her. So she's giving him the space he needs or wants because it's up to her to give him everything he deserves. And he deserves everything good she has left to give him. And maybe, just maybe, he'll realize it's good and he won't turn his eyes away from her the next time she sees him.

Maybe she should just stop thinking in circles. She sighs and glances up at the sky and wonders if he'll ever get it. She likes to think she could wait forever. After all, she _is_ Rachel Berry and if she isn't determined, then she isn't anything.

It isn't the same when you shatter the boy you love, regardless of your intentions. And worst of all? After the few minutes she'd been with Puck, she hadn't felt any better. So not only did she hurt Finn, she hurt him for _nothing._ Because she still feels awful and he still isn't here. So what's the point?

"Merry Christmas."

She looks up, startled. "I don't celebrate Christmas." She frowns up at him. "Neither do you."

He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets, taking a seat next to her on the bench. "That's not very gracious and all that shit you're always preaching, Berry." He grins.

"You're right," she sighs. "I'm sorry, Noah. How are you doing?"

He rests a hand on her shoulder briefly. "From the looks of it, better than you. Are you sure you're all right?"

She looks at him sadly. "I've been better," she says softly. "I'm sorry," she says again.

Puck leans back against the bench, scrubbing a hand over his head. Figures she'd wanna get all deep and personal and shit. Maybe he's not the brightest kid around, but he can read between the lines. Then again, as much as he hates all this talk about your feelings garbage, it might be what they need because it's what _she_ needs. And if he's trying to be a friend to her, he may as well go all-out. And maybe she'll even figure this shit out. He can grudgingly admit that she and Finn are kinda made for each other and all that other fairytale shit.

He figures that just 'cause they've hit a rough patch doesn't mean it's gotta stay that way. And truth be told, he'd rather not see her moping around like this; it's depresses even him. "It's okay," he tells her. "You wouldn't have slept with me anyway."

Rachel looks at him, affronted. Who is he to be questioning her daring? "I w-would…" she trails off because the words are bitter on her tongue and she knows they're lies.

He laughs a little. "Save it, Rachel. We both know you've never even gotten to third with Fi—anyone. You wouldn't have."

"I wouldn't have," she finally agrees. He almost doesn't hear what she says next. "It should have been me."

"Huh?"

"It should have been me who…who…_stopped_ us," she clarifies. "Then again, I shouldn't have started it."

He flinches at the self-resentment in her tone. It's just so _not_ like her. Not to this extent, anyway. "Hey," he says. "Look, I'm not gonna say you should have done it. Or," he adds with a slight crease in his brow, "that I shoulda gone along with it. But we all make mistakes, Berry. Look at me. I kinda invented them." She smiles up at him a little, though he notices a tear in her eye that she's refusing to wipe away. "So yeah, I'm sorry too. For whatever role I played in breaking you two up. And for, y'know, telling Quinn."

She looks away. He doesn't say anything. What is there to say after this? Finally, she speaks, though her voice is quiet and pained. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

He purses his lips because he doesn't really know the answer to that. After thinking about it for a while, he says, "Maybe. If he ever forgives me."

Her eyes snap to his. Rachel's heart starts pounding a little louder because he's…_right._ Finn's furious with her and he has the right to be. And she'd _known_ when she did what she did how much worse it was because it was Noah. But it's not just about her, she realizes. It's _mostly_ about her. But it's about Quinn and Noah too because they broke him first. They gave him all the bitterness he feels toward her first. So yes, he'd given her time to explain without really listening. But she'd never tried to look any further than that.

Now it just hurts _more_ because she gets how much _more_ she hurt _him._ Why does it always take her so long to reach all the pertinent conclusions? She knows why. Because _Finn_ is the one who leads her in that direction and she'd pushed him away and he pushed _her_ away. And they both broke each other and now there's nothing.

Now there's _everything._

She cries.

Puck pulls her toward him, letting her cry into his shoulder. It makes him a little uncomfortable, yeah, but not anymore than seeing a girl bawling her eyes out. She sniffs a little and when she's finally done, she looks at him, murmuring her thanks. He gives her a one-shouldered shrug and says he'll walk her home.

She politely declines and says she has somewhere else she needs to be. He doesn't believe her, but he gives a small wave as he leaves.

Rachel smiles a little as she watches Noah walk away. Maybe, she thinks, she still has a lot to learn.

* * *

Finn throws the controller of his XBOX on his bed. He's been playing this game for upwards of six hours and it's actually just kinda boring him now. Tomorrow is New Year's Eve and he's done pretty much _nothing_ with his life since Christmas. So far, this Christmas break has been even crummier than last year's, which is saying something. When the hell did he stop having _friends?_

Then again, back with Quinn, all his _friends_ were just douchebags. And yeah, maybe he was one of them, but he wasn't really _one_ of them. It never felt right. And there's no way in hell he's gonna call Puck his friend anymore. Just because he doesn't feel like punching the dickface in the jaw _every_ time he sees him anymore doesn't mean they're really on friendly terms. Especially now that Christmas is over and everything.

And Sam? Well, Finn's not really sure what's up with him. He guesses they're bros, but he's pretty sure Sam might be trying to jack his life. He doesn't care so much about the Quinn thing (though he can admit they're kinda gross, but whatever). But he knows Sam's totally trying to take the quarterback position from him again and that just…isn't _cool._ Like, he feels really bad that he called the play that ended up getting Sam's shoulder dislocated. But now that Sam's fine and they've totally moved past it, he's not letting the position go. Plus, he figures Sam is probably with Quinn anyway and Finn doesn't actually know that much stuff that Sam's into. He frowns.

It all kinda stopped mattering once he had Rachel as his friend. And then his best friend. And then his girlfriend-sort of. And then his ex-girlfriend, but they were still kinda friends. And then they both acknowledged that they were _best friends_ and suddenly he was her boyfriend again _and_ her best friend. So even though they'd been a couple, they were friends and that was cool, but he guesses the lines kinda got blurred. Which is understandable, but still annoying because now that she's not his girlfriend again, they're not friends either. So he really doesn't have anything to do with himself.

It sucks.

So he decides maybe he should just lie on his bed and _think._ He's realized it's a little easier to say her name now. Then again, he hasn't said her name out loud and definitely not in her presence. Whatever. Anyway, it's weird how she would always make comparisons. She was always saying how she doesn't look like Quinn. Or Santana. Or Brittany. Or some other Cheerio slut. Well, he'd always been glad she doesn't look like Quinn.

Like, Quinn's hot or whatever and she's got the popularity thing going for her. But Rachel isn't as obvious about how hot she is and it was _awesome_ 'cause it was just for him to know. And even though sometimes her eyes get a little crazy, they're always full of some kind of emotion. And he just always loved that 'cause he can read her so well. And with Quinn, her eyes just always looked…_cold._ Like you knew she was planning something, that she was ruthless. So yeah, not looking like Quinn? Not such a bad thing.

He'd already admitted to her he thought Santana was hot—in retrospect probably not his brightest idea. But then, it doesn't matter because it was before she went and made him fall apart and he made _them_ fall apart. But the thing is, he doesn't _care_ that Santana is hot. She's still a bitch. Mostly. Besides, Santana is like _slutty_ hot. Which is good for guys like Puck, he supposes. But Finn _isn't_ like Puck and it hadn't taken him long to realize _slutty_ hot wasn't what he wanted. Whereas with Rachel, she just, like, cares about being healthy and stuff, so her being smokin' hot was just a side benefit. A really, really awesome one, too.

And then she would do this thing where she would, like, compare voices. Like, she would state that she's the best singer in the club, right? And he would agree and not just for brownie points. He'd known that since the first time she opened her crazy mouth to sing with him. That's not the problem. It's that she would then go into this rant about how if she's the best singer, how come no one gets it? Like, she totally appreciates the talent of the other club members (maybe not as much as her own talent, but he supposes it's just Rachel being Rachel). But she'd wonder why if Quinn or Santana have a tendency to go sharp, why is it Mr. Schue wants them to have more solos? Does everyone think they have a better tone? What's wrong with _her_ voice?

And then she would like seriously make charts and stuff. And she just didn't get that people had nothing against her voice, they just never tried to look past any of her bossiness and all that stuff. So when Santana or Mercedes or even Sunshine would sing, people went nuts. Maybe he just didn't explain it, 'cause she never understood that. She just kept going on and making all these vocal comparisons, making him listen to tapes of group numbers over and over and over 'til he would kiss her to shut her up. Though obviously he doesn't do that anymore, but she probably does. Somehow, that doesn't give him the satisfaction he thinks it's supposed to. Maybe it if were a couple weeks ago, he'd think _good you deserve it Rachel you should be miserable like I'm miserable.___

But it's not a few weeks ago and see, _he_ can make the comparisons too. Maybe it was all stuff he should have done for real, like aloud and to her face. Maybe he should have made her try to _see._ Maybe his brain is just on fire.

See this is why he hates thinking a lot. It just confuses him a lot. Like, he's still_ mad_ at her and he still can't believe she would _do_ something like that to him. But now he just doesn't have the energy to hate her _all the time_ anymore. Especially since he's pretty sure that since most of his thoughts about her aren't _I can't even look at you or think about you without wanting to punch stuff or rip your heart out too but I would never do that 'cause I'm not like you did you even think about how this would _kill_ me?_ that he's on his way to forgiving her. Trusting her completely is a different ballgame, but that all comes after forgiveness anyway so he doesn't have to think about it that much.

He drags himself off his bed when he hears the doorbell, groaning. He nearly slams the door closed again when he opens and sees fucking _Puck_ standing there, but the jackass jams his foot in the doorframe. Finn sighs exasperatedly.

"Go away."

"Just hear me out," Puck starts.

"No!" Finn interrupts. "I don't wanna hear what you have to say. You like fucking me over, I get it. Trust me, I really do. Now get the hell outta here." He pushes the door against Puck's boot, but it doesn't help.

"This isn't _about_ me," his ex-best friend replies angrily. "Now open the fucking door and let me in before I have to kick it down."

Finn stares at him, considering. Puck's definitely capable of bashing his door in and he knows his mom would be_ pissed_ if that happened. And the last thing he needs in his life is more drama. He looks at Puck, resigned, and slowly eases the door open.

Puck strides inside, shedding his sweatshirt. "Look," he says, getting right down to business. "I know you're pissed at me and I get it, dude. Seriously. But look, with Quinn—" Puck sets his jaw when he sees Finn roll his eyes, knowing the quarterback is about to tune him out.

Finn thinks this really has to be a waste a time. It's been over a year and suddenly Puck wants to talk about what happened with Quinn? Yeah he cared about Quinn a lot, even if she was kinda a bitch. And yeah, it still pisses him off that she cheated on him and said he was gonna be a dad and tore it all away from him to try to keep herself safe. And yeah, he's still motherfucking _broken_ that Rachel coulda done the same thing if she wanted to because now that he's faced with Puck it's all coming back and now he doesn't know if he's feeling forgiveness or if he just _misses_ her.

"Listen to me!" Puck snaps.

"Why the fuck should I?" Finn counters, walking into the kitchen. Puck follows him. "How do I know everything that comes outta your mouth isn't just stupid _bullshit?_ You wanna talk about what happened? 'Cause I don't! I don't wanna know why you fucked my girlfriend at the time. Or why you made out with my _other_ girlfriend at the time. The Quinn stuff? Yeah, it fucking _sucked._ But this thing with Rachel? What do you want me to say? It's okay 'cause it's not as bad? It's _worse,_ you asshole!" He takes a deep breath 'cause he realizes how much _effort_ it takes for this kind of arguing and he doesn't have the energy.

"You're an _idiot!_" Puck tells him. "Fuck, look I don't regret what I did with Quinn. Like, sucks that it hurt you. Seriously, I don't like that part, but Quinn? You two never had anything substantial. But with Rachel? You think I did that to fuck with you? Jesus Christ." Finn eyes him warily, his anger barely contained. "I was trying to be nice to her after you went and started ignoring her and shit when she found out you fucked Santana."

Finn opens his mouth to protest, but Puck glares at him. "No, dude. I'm not saying it was wrong of you to have sex with her when you did, that's your shit to deal with. But when Rachel was all upset and shit, you just walked away from her. You didn't even _try_ sticking up for her. So yeah, I was being nice to her 'cause I've learned a lot since I got outta juvie. Anyway, she was trying to explain everything to me and I kinda tuned out some of it 'cause I can't take _that_ much talking, but I got the gist of it, dude. And yeah, she fucked up majorly but I bet you never even thought about why. She knows she screwed up. And when I—_she _put a stop to everything, and I left, I knew she just killed herself inside just like it killed you."

Finn stares at Puck. Is he seriously blaming _Finn_ for all this? Finn groans again. This is all just causing him to need to think _more._

"You have _no_ idea what this feels like," Finn says quietly.

Puck scoffs. "I'm not saying you should go get back with her instantly 'cause you're just gonna end up fighting more. I'm just saying take your head out of your ass for once and see that she isn't like Quinn. And I don't even give a fuck if you never forgive me and still hate me. That's fine. But Rachel isn't like me either and she's doing everything she can to show you that. So if she's leaving you alone like I'm guessing you wanted her to, then stop acting like she's the only one who's ever made a mistake in your guys' relationship. 'Cause she's forgiven you for a shit ton of things."

Finn goes back to thinking about comparisons and wonders if these ones are actually accurate. But before he can dwell on it too much, he's already punching Puck square in the jaw.

Puck stumbles backwards a step and fends off Finn's next advance. "You get the one. Anything else, I'm gonna kick your _ass._"

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Finn asks, shaking his hand out 'cause _fuck_ Puck's face is like made of steel or something.

"I'm not the one sitting on my bed moping all day." Puck crosses his arms over his chest. Then he sighs when he sees Finn's face scrunch up in anger or heartbreak or _something._ "All right. So it's another fucked up thing in your screwy relationship. But if you can find a way to get over it, and I bet if you try hard enough, eventually you will 'cause you're totally moony over her and have fish hooks in your mouth and shit. And trust me, if you and her find a way to fix this, you'll both be less miserable."

Finn doesn't say anything. 'Cause maybe Puck's sort of right, which is scary enough 'cause when is Puck ever right? If nothing else, maybe he just needs to use the alone time Rachel is giving him to sort his brain out instead of just being bitter or angry or wondering. "Is this an apology?" he asks.

Puck shrugs. "It's as much of one as either of us are gonna get."

Typical. But then if Puck broke down and got on his knees and begged for forgiveness, Finn would know instantly that it's time to wake up. "Are we done?" It's a weighted question.

Puck catches it, says softly, "Yeah."

And then that's it. It's over. What's been said has been said and what's been heard has been heard. Finn watches as Puck nods at him and turns around, exiting his house.

Finn slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, resting his head in his hands. A year's worth of bitterness, of hatred. He feels drained. Puck's still an asshole. And _he's_ still reeling. He's pretty sure it isn't normal. But then he'd never imagined he and Puck would ever have any kind of closure since neither of them ever wanted to talk about it.

So of course it would be _Rachel_ who forces it out of them, even without trying. Because even without trying, she's still around.

He thinks about Puck's words. _'Cause she's forgiven you for a shit ton of things._ That's true enough. But here's the thing, he didn't _cheat_ on her. He screwed up a lot. He kissed her when he shouldn't have. Lied to her about the play stuff and let her kiss him when he shouldn't have. He quit glee a few times. Broke up with her 'cause he wasn't thinking straight. But never never _never_ did he ever even _think_ about cheating on her! He _loved_ her. He tells that annoying voice in his head to shut the fuck up before it can even unnecessarily tell him he cheated on Quinn again.

This isn't _about_ Quinn. It's about _Rachel._ Maybe he shouldn't have given up so easily. Maybe he shouldn't have let _her _let him give up so easily. About the whole sex lie thing. Like, he shoulda stormed out after her. Maybe he shoulda asked her _why_ she was so hung up about the Santana part instead of just getting frustrated about it.

Maybe he should have tried harder.

Fuck.

Maybe they both really _did_ screw up. So maybe if/when he sees her over the rest of break, instead of just not feeling like he wants to cry, maybe he'll even say hello.

Maybe she'll even say hello back.

He sighs.

It all comes down to maybes.

Somehow, the thought doesn't comfort him.  


* * *

_I'm not sure how many chapters this story will end up having, but there we go. I appreciate your feedback._

Reviews = love 


	4. It's A New Year, After All

**A/N:**_ Sorry this took so long! D: I hope you're all still reading. And I know you're all eager to get to the F/R reconciliation, but bear with me here. There's a method to my madness and all that._

_Thanks for sticking around! And thanks for all the reviews and favorites and alerts. I appreciate them immensely! you guys are awesome. :)_

_Disclaimer: Don't own._

* * *

What's his life become, he wonders. It's New Years Eve and all's done since Puck came over yesterday is lie on his bed in the dark, his head pounding. He hasn't even eaten and every time Kurt tries to get him to, Finn just throws a pillow at his face.

He's never been one for mind-numbing revelations 'cause let's face it, Rachel always did most of the thinking and he just trusted her instincts. But now here he is and the thoughts just _don't stop._ It's kinda making him dizzy. It's not like him to over-analyze a whole lot of things; he's a pretty simplistic guy. But Rachel…well it's different with her because _she's_ different and _he's_ different _with_ her.

Like, obviously he'd been different before he met her; everyone knows that. But even now he's just…_different._ Because with Rachel, he's _happy._ And now that he's not with her, he's just achy and miserable. Maybe this whole love and forgiveness thing isn't supposed to have any kind of identifiable process. 'Cause it doesn't make sense for him to be thinking of this, like, rationally or whatever when he should just hate her. But…he _doesn't._

Which makes him think he either has more or less thinking to do, but he can't really figure out which one it is, so he just goes with what feels natural. He goes back to Puck's whole spiel about how Rachel had forgiven him for all these things in the past. But he doesn't get how any of them are as significant as what she did. But is there some kind of balance thing going on? Like, all the times he broke her heart added up equals the one thing she did to him? It seems kind of unfair, but it's not like she ever opened up to him that much about all the shit he pulled on her.

Though he guesses she probably shouldn't have expected her to. This would be so much easier if it wasn't so…_hard._ That probably seems stupid, and maybe it is, but noting makes sense anymore!

None of this shit would have happened if he hadn't been stupid enough to sleep with Santana! Wait…_what?_ No. No way. Is his subconscious trying to blame him for all this? 'Cause shouldn't it be, like, on _his_ side? Not that he really knows what his side _is_ anymore.

Because this is what he's come to so far.

Life sucks.

_He_ helped make his life suck. Like, _a lot._

That day when he had couples counseling with Rachel? And he spewed all sorts of ridiculous word vomit and she wanted to slap him and instead he just let her walk away from him, from _them?_ That might have actually been stupider than sleeping with Santana in the first place. He really needs to learn to stop living with his head up his ass, doesn't he? Ugh, as soon as he starts thinking about blame and fault and shit, it's easy to just go back to Rachel. And he just ends up in the same spot over and over again.

So he needs a new approach, right? But _what?_

Before he can really think about it though, Kurt is opening his door again. Finn picks up his pillow, but his step-brother holds his hands up in defense. "I'm not trying to get you to eat dinner!" He looks around Finn's room disdainfully before announcing, "But you have a visitor."

Finn frowns. "Who?"

Kurt merely quirks his lips and leaves the room.

Why is it that someone always shows up when he's trying to sort these things out for himself? Maybe another reason he's taking forever on figuring all this out is 'cause every time he tries, someone's gotta interrupt his internal monologue. And it's not like he's good with thinking and he can just pick up where he left off! If the universe really wants him to try to figure out what _really_ went wrong between him and Rachel, then it's gotta stop letting people distract him from it.

He drags himself downstairs, offering a brief nod to his mom when she glances at him worriedly.

He opens the door, yawning a little, and his brow furrows at who he sees.

"Santana?" he asks. "What're you doing here?"

"Relax," she says easily and shoves her way into the house. "You left Mr. Schue's early the other day. And he asked me to give you this." She pulls an envelope out of her purse. "But I've been kinda busy, so I didn't have time to give it to you before." She holds it out to him. "Well, here. Take it!"

He does. But he thinks it's probably a bad sign if Mr. Schue looks to _Santana_ to deliver stuff to him. _Could his life get anymore fucked up?_ he thinks tiredly. Actually, don't answer that. _Please._ He doesn't want to know.

"Have I ever been over to your house?" she asks him, looking around.

And suddenly he feels a little self-conscious. "Um," answers, frowning a little. "I don't think so."

She doesn't say anything rude about his house, so that's something. But then she doesn't say _anything._ So it's actually kinda awkward. He clears his throat.

"Are you gonna open it?"

He glances at the Cheerio. "Yeah." Eventually. Maybe. She raises an eyebrow.

"Whatever." She gets ready to leave his house again, but just before she walks out the door, she turns around to face him. And when she speaks, her voice is softer than usual and she's even smiling a little. "Happy New Year, Finn."

So he smiles a little back. "Yeah," he replies. "You too."

And then she's gone and he's wondering just what it'll take to _really_ have a happy new year.

Though he's pretty sure somewhere inside, he's already figured that out.

* * *

He decides the first step to not making this new year all miserable and shitty as the past few weeks have been is to stop moping. At least for now.

So when his mom comes in to ask if he wants to play games with the rest of the family, he says yes. And is rewarded with one of his mom's genuine smiles. And that makes him feel a little better.

He ends up losing at Sorry. And Yahtzee. And Pictionary. But strangely, it doesn't get him too down. It's mostly just annoying 'cause Kurt won't stop rubbing it in his face, but Finn just fixes him with a lot of eye rolls. No big.

He tries to get Kurt to play poker, but his step-brother refuses. Though it kind of reminds him of this one time he asked if he could Rachel how to play. And she'd assumed he'd meant strip poker and went into this whole rant about when she was ready for him to see her without clothes on, it would be a lot more intimate than _strip poker_. And he's grinning all goofily remembering it and Kurt has to slap him on the shoulder to get him to pay attention again.

It's really not so bad, you know? Like, maybe he can be happy again if he really wants to.

Maybe he's finally ready to try.

* * *

"This is kind of weird, isn't it?" she asks.

Kurt laughs a little. "It is. But it's nice too, I suppose." He sips his drink and watches Rachel's face.

She sighs. She's been at this little café with Kurt for half an hour and it doesn't feel like she thought it would. She'd figured it's New Years Day and Kurt's leaving to go back to Dalton later, so they should get together before he does. But though she and Kurt are more of friends than they have been in the past, there's still a small sort of uncomfortable-ness. She supposes part of that might be because of…Finn. She sighs again.

It's too silent. She stirs her spoon around in her soup, debating with herself whether or not she should ask about him. In the end, she makes the choice she knew she would from the beginning. "How is he doing?" Her voice is quiet.

Kurt hesitates. "He's…doing." She frowns. "I honestly don't know, Rachel. Most of yesterday he spent lying in the dark in his bedroom. But somewhere along the way he had a change of heart and decided to spend New Year's Eve with us. He comes and goes, I guess." He looks at her a little guiltily, not knowing how much he should have told her.

"Oh," she squeaks. "Okay." She doesn't quite understand what he means, but if Finn appears to be okay, she guesses she'll just have to live with the knowledge Kurt is willing to supply.

He gives her a small, sympathetic smile. "Look Rachel, he really cares about you, but that's about all I'm going to say. As I've told Finn, you'd sooner catch me in Gap than you would in between your guys' spat or what have you." He reaches across the table to rest his hand on hers briefly. "Now, come on!"

He sets a couple twenties on the table and whisks her out the door. "Where are we going?" she asks curiously.

"Does it matter?"

She frowns.

"Come on, you called me and said you wanted to get together before I left and I agreed. So let's make the best of it, dollface. Before you and I are forced into hating each other again because you're my competition at Regionals."

"Okay," she agrees, smiling. Maybe Kurt's right. Maybe if she can be happy, _really_ happy for one hour or one day, she'll learn to be happy day in and day out. Plus it'll probably do her some good to spend time thinking about something besides Finn, she figures.

And then maybe she'll come back with a clearer head.

It's a new year, after all.

* * *

It's evening when she returns home. She hugs Kurt goodbye and says she'll see him at Regionals.

"When we kick you to the curb," he adds. She rolls her eyes. "Take care of yourself, Rachel."

She nods. "You too."

"Do I ever _not_?" He waves goodbye and pulls out of her driveway. She shakes her head a little.

She wants nothing more than to call Finn and tell him of her day; how maybe she's finally making a real friend.

But she knows she can't and therefore she doesn't.

This whole "give Finn his space" thing is making her feel lonelier than ever. But she's stopped making this about herself. Because that's how she ended up in this mess in the first place; making it all about herself. It doesn't stop her from wondering about him, though. Or worrying over him.

But if what Kurt said meant he was starting to feel better, did that mean he was starting to feel better…about _her?_ Or at least about them? Is he ready to hear her out finally? For real? Because there are a lot of things she needs to tell him. A lot of things she _didn't _know originally when she tried to apologize.

But then again, at that point she'd been making it all about _her._ Even though her subconscious had registered how upset about it because of what had happened with Quinn. But it wasn't until Noah found her on Christmas and talked to her that she'd really understood the scope of Finn's anger and hurt.

And maybe a little of it goes back to what Quinn had told her as well. She's not sure exactly how far Finn forgave Quinn or Noah, though it seems as if he's more sympathetic to the Cheerio than to his former best friend. But she can't imagine having her heart broken in the same way twice. Sure, Finn had broken _her_ heart plenty of times (which, hearing him admit it usually went a long way with her, though he _could_ have stuck up for her a little more), but it never felt exactly the same way. Because there was always some little nuance to each time and in the end, she'd forgive him.

But _she'd_ done exactly what Quinn did to him. Except maybe worse. Not just because Finn cared (cares?) about her in a way he never did about Quinn, but also because none of Quinn's intentions came from wanting to hurt him deliberately. And while Rachel believes that _she's_ sorrier than Quinn ever was or could be, she understands Finn's reserve at trusting her again. She doesn't _like_ it. And she really does think she's worth another chance. It's not as if she's going to make any kind of similar mistake again. And yes, people say that all the time. But she's never cheated on anyone else before. And she'd never even _thought_ about doing such a thing to Finn until she'd found out about Santana.

She just wants to make all the hurt go away.

She just wants to know _how_ to make all the hurt go away.

* * *

It's a lot of work analyzing a relationship from beginning to end; and it's rather stressful, as well. But she'd taken a long, relaxing bath to re-focus her thoughts.

What she doesn't understand, in terms of Finn explaining himself and defending her (or rather, his lack thereof) is that it's not as if he hasn't done those things before! But it seems like he'd been more into defending her _before_ they'd started dating. She can remember in the earlier days of glee club last year when he'd go out of his way to make sure she had her say or save her place in the club. So what changed?

If she'd thought about it before, she could have asked him. She wishes she'd have just not taken Ms. Pillsbury's advice. Because whenever she does, it never works out well for her! She should have scheduled the couples counseling appointment with her personal therapist. But she'd been angry and unwilling to wait until after school.

She plays with a loose strand of hair and looks out of her window. She wonders if maybe the key is to just _stop_ thinking about it all for a while.

But she doesn't know how to do that either. She tries to stay away from placing all the blame on herself, just as she doesn't want to make it seem like it's all his fault either. As much as she hates to admit it (and she really, _really_ does) perhaps a bit of time apart is exactly what they need. _For now_, of course. Because being away from him is forcing her to re-evaluate her relationship, her life, and herself. And if she knows Finn as well as she thinks she does (and she definitely does) he's probably doing the same.

So maybe they'll both learn more about this whole situation in their time apart and at some point they'll talk again. And it won't be just angry or hateful words; they'll really try to get through this together. Because she knows he still loves her; she'd be able to tell in her heart if he didn't.

So for the first time in weeks, she feels a _real _little sliver of hope bloom in her chest.

* * *

"Take care, dude. It was good to see you again." Finn claps Kurt on the shoulder one last time before the smaller boy climbs into his car.

"Are you feeling any better?" his mom asks him quietly as Burt walks back into the house.

He looks at her, feeling a little guilty. "I'm sorry I've been sucking a lot lately, mom. I know it's like depressing you and stuff, but—"

She holds up a hand; he stops talking. She smiles a little. "Honey, I'm not asking for my sake. I'm asking for yours. Finn, honestly, how're _you_ feeling?"

He gives her a half-smile. His mom is super awesome. Like, really. He remembers kinda talking about all this with Kurt and how it sort of helped. Should he maybe talk some with his mom? 'Cause she usually understands him and where he's coming from. And he's gotta be honest, a lot of his thoughts aren't really making sense. Or not the kind of sense he's used to making. Or whatever. Jeez and now he's confusing himself again! Awesome.

Because he's in this place in his mind right now where he's actually pretty sure he's forgiven Rachel. Or forgiven her enough to want to talk to her, like in a _real_ conversation. But that kinda scares him too, because he doesn't know what he should say yet. Which makes him think that maybe he _hasn't_ actually forgiven her. Because surely if he had, he'd know what to say, right? Then again, he's never really been that great at words, so once again he just ends up in the same spot!

And it's not like he can ask Rachel 'cause…yeah. Obviously. It's weird re-opening all the wounds from Quinn and Puck and Quinn _and_ Puck. And before it kind of felt like a different lifetime, you know? And not something he would ever really need to face again. Because until yesterday, he and Puck never talked about it, or about much of anything really. And as Quinn had said in the beginning of the year, it was mostly behind the two of them. Because it didn't matter when he had Rachel. But then he _didn't_ have Rachel, so it kind of mattered again.

And now he's not really sure how much he's forgiven Quinn either, but it must be more than Rachel because it doesn't hurt when he thinks about Quinn like it does when he thinks about Rachel. But most of his feelings for Quinn revolved around the fact that he thought he had a daughter, right? And it wasn't really like that with Rachel because Rachel is just…_Rachel._ And that's what he'd found so great about her.

Until…

He sighs. Is he ever gonna have a life not filled with untils? Or is he ever gonna figure out how much the untils actually matter? Is anything in his brain ever going to make sense? Seriously, what the hell is going on?

He really needs to be better at organizing his thoughts. He rubs a hand over his forehead. "Mom?" he asks.

"What is it, sweetie?" Carole grips her sons shoulders lightly, looking at his face.

"Is it weird if it feels like I've let go of a lot of the stuff Quinn did to me? Like, I'm more pissed that Rachel would follow in her footsteps than I actually am at what Quinn did to me now. Does that make sense?" He frowns a little, 'cause the words never seem to come out right. But his mom smiles anyway 'cause that's how she is.

"Have you ever asked her? Quinn, I mean? Have you ever talked about…" She doesn't finish the sentence.

His brow furrows and he shakes his head. "And I know you didn't talk to Rachel," she goes on. "I'm not sure how related the two cases are in all respects, but you might be surprised what you could learn from Quinn." She shrugs one shoulder a little. "You're always gonna feel the way you feel, Finn. I don't know how to make sense of all your feelings. I wish I did. But I know you're gonna figure everything out."

So maybe he's a bit of a mama's boy or something, but he gives her a hug and he thinks she may have just given him the kind of answer he was looking for anyway.

'Cause he _has_ forgiven Rachel. Like, for really and honestly. But he's still gotta make it all _right _with her. But he knows where to start now.

He knows what he's gotta do.

* * *

_And so ends chapter four. Now here's the thing, there are like a trillion post 2x10 reconciliation fics out there. Is it worth it for me to finish this one? Like, do you guys want me to keep going? Because there are two more chapters and I **will** finish it before the hiatus is over if you want me to continue this. Let me know._

_Thanks again! Reviews = love. _


	5. More Than Okay

**A/N:**_ Sorry it took so long. Thank you so much for all the reviews and stuff, guys. It seriously makes my day. :)_

I should have the last chapter up by Wednesday. But I hope you're not disappointed by this one!

_Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Glee or its affiliates._  


* * *

  
He has a free period, so he decides when's a better time to start trying to patch everything up?

"Hey, Santana!" he calls, approaching her. She raises an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "Have you seen—"

"She's over near the science wing."

He frowns a little. "No, I'm looking for Quinn. Have you—"

Santana interrupts him again. "Yeah, I know. And she's over by the science wing," she repeats in a tone kinda like she things he's some dumbass dog.

"Oh," he says awkwardly. "Thanks."

But then his curiosity gets the best of him and he turns around to face her. "How'd you know who I was looking for?"

She sighs and shuts her locker. "Puck told me he went over to your house and you two kinda hashed it out or whatever. And you know? Just 'cause I'm a bitch doesn't mean I'm not smart." She shrugs. "Maybe I even hope it works out for you. And maybe when you're done talking to Quinn you can throw her off a cliff for me," she adds over her shoulder as she walks away.

He stares after her and shakes his head. Girls are weird. He sighs and makes his way to the science wing.

H doesn't know where to start, but that's not uncommon for him. And he thinks what's more important is that he knows where he wants it to _end._ He knows where it's _gotta_ end. He's kinda proud of himself for coming to the conclusion that he needs to talk things over with Quinn, even if he sort of got the idea from his mom.

The corner of his lips twitch into a half-smile because he _finally_ feels ready enough to smile a little and it doesn't feel wrong or unnatural. And if things go the way he hopes they will (and to be honest, he's gonna make _sure_ that they do 'cause he's had enough of outside forces screwing things up for him and some things, well, they're just _worth it_—and _she's_ worth it, he's convinced) then maybe happiness, maybe that new chapter stuff his mom is talking about, maybe he can make it _reality._ 'Cause honestly? He _wants_ to. Like, really.

So he sees Quinn and she's like examining her nails or some other weirdass thing that girls do and guys can never figure out why. He walks toward her and she looks up, surprised, when she sees him coming, but she doesn't move away, so that's good away, right?

"Quinn," he says in greeting. She nods. "We need to talk."

She looks taken aback by the seriousness in his tone, but asks, "About?"

He takes a deep breath. "You and me."

She doesn't look all too thrilled about the topic, but she purses her lips and nods again. "I'll meet you for pizza later?"

"Snazzy," he replies, and pushes off the locker he'd been leaning on. "I'll see ya later."

He grins to himself as he walks away. Things might be looking up for once. And you know what? It's _awesome._

* * *

Rachel bites her lip as she finishes carefully arranging her books in her backpack. Finn walks by and smiles at her and her heart constricts a little in her chest. He doesn't say anything, but it doesn't matter. He _smiled._ An honest, genuine smile and she's knows she'd made the right decision in deciding to give him space.

Granted a small part of her wants to rush over to him and say hello, ask how he's been, etc, but she's been curbing those impulses for a while now; it's not as if she can't do it now. She'll simply wait for _him_ to approach _her._ After all, she's realized that things have to be completely on his terms for the time being and even though it pains her immensely, she's one of those people who simply do what needs to be done. Really, what other kind of attitude can a star in the making have?

"Hey dwarf," she hears someone say. _Santana._ She sighs, biting her lip. "Finn's going out with Quinn tonight. Did'ja know that?" she sneers?

Rachel's mouth drops open in shock. Surely that's a lie! _Surely,_ even if Finn has the _right_ to go out with Quinn doesn't mean that he _would_, right? He can't be over her so quickly, can he? She stops tears from pooling in her eyes because she _refuses_ to believe it. Finn didn't smile at her earlier because he was ready to move on from her. He _didn't._

The Cheerio sighs with exaggerated patience. "Relax, hunch back. This is actually a good thing for you. You really think he's gonna date that skankbag again?" She shrugs a shoulder. "I was just being a bitch, y'know. They're just gonna talk about a bunch of shit no one else cares about. And on second thought, talking to you is a huge waste of time. Bye. You really do need a style check, though," she adds before sauntering away, one hand on her hip.

Rachel bites her lip, still a little shaken, Santana's words. She won't think about it, she decides. She can't let the likes of _Santana_ get to her anymore, as that's the root of the problem, she's sure of it. Or at least, the root of her problems with Finn on _her_ side of the blame.

But apparently, the Cheerio's words had gotten to her anyway because she forgets she has practice for ballet club—and it's not like her to forget anything. She lives her life rather meticulously-scheduled (though not so meticulously as to not leave room for improvising and other unaccounted for plans) and thus writes down the important details of her life. And yet, she'd completely forgotten about her obligations; it worries her. She's been working so diligently on her insecurities in order to hopefully patch things up with Finn eventually.

Santana always manages to destroy her.

After telling herself _no,_ she _won't_ cry, she drives to the studio, even though it's five-thirty and rehearsal is long over. But she feels bad and she's learned in her sixteen years that if you make a mistake, you have to try your best to correct it. Her instructor looks at her warily, but then her face softens as Rachel _promises_ to make up the time.

"I'll even start right now!" she insists.

Her dance instructor, Gloria, just smiles a little and shakes her head. "That's all right, Rachel. You can just come by tomorrow's class. No harm, no foul."

Rachel sighs in relief. "Thank you," she says quietly.

It's not much, but it offers her _some _piece of mind. And with the state of her thoughts at current, she welcomes it readily.

When she returns home, after completing her homework assignments, she pulls out her pictures of her and Finn at the field days again. But this time, it isn't to punish herself. She wonders if it's possible to get those feelings back—all the wonderful ones the two of them had felt that day. It had started raining halfway through their day, but it hadn't deterred either of them from having fun.

She'd even had some of the cotton candy he'd bought. She smiles softly at the pictures, flipping through them. There's one of the two of them at the top of a Ferris wheel, Finn barely able to suppress his fear of the car breaking off and the two of them falling to their deaths—and her giggling because under normal circumstances _she_ would be the dramatic one. She knows they both had their ups and downs and sometimes outsiders would look at them and think about or see just the downs.

But it wasn't all misery. In fact, _most_ of their relationship wasn't misery. It was weekends spent just holding each other or Rachel helping Finn with his math homework that led to making out. It was baking three loaves of banana bread a week for Finn and taking turns picking which movies to watch because she'd learned the power of compromise and he'd been so proud of her for it. It was lazy smiles and discrete, meaningful glances.

It was beautiful.

And she finally really believes she can get it back someday.

And she'll be _damned_ if she lets Santana ruin that for her.

* * *

Finn checks the time on his cell phone nervously as he waits for Quinn to join him in the booth. She's already thirteen minutes late and he kind of forgets about her whole "being fashionably late" bullshit because he's forgotten a lot of stuff when it comes to what it's like being with her.

She finally shows up, giving him a nervous smile as she takes her coat off and slides into the booth, sitting across from him. "Finally," he mutters under his breath.

She ignores it and asks, "What kind of pizza did you order?"

She never changes, he thinks absently. "I didn't yet." He'd decided not to order something she might hate because if he pisses her off, it'll only makes things crappier and stuff. So _not_ worth it. Like at least when Rachel is pissed, it's adorable and kinda hot, even if she's kinda scary (or, you know, like _really_ scary). But when Quinn is pissed, it's just plain fucking annoying.

When the waitress comes to take their order, Quinn tells her they want garlic pizza; she doesn't give him a choice. Garlic pizza. What the hell? Seriously? He's pretty sure only pansies and grandmas eat garlic pizza. Pizza is supposed to be about lots of cheese and pepperoni and _meat_ and stuff. Like, _manly_ stuff. Who the fuck eats garlic pizza? That's like choosing cookies from a box instead of ones that Rachel baked fresh.

He finds himself thinking about Rachel _a lot _these days. But not in the bad way—the way that's like _no Finn don't 'cause she hurt you like you never thought she would._ But more in the way where he remembers all the better things about her and he thinks maybe that's more important than the crappy stuff. And it it's not, it definitely should be.

He'll _make_ it so it is.

"Soo…" she starts, sipping her diet Pepsi. He's never understood the point of diet soda—it has a bunch of stuff in it that people wouldn't normally eat and it tastes like ass.

"Right," he says. "Look, I'm just gonna say it straight out 'cause—well, anyway. I don't think I really loved you—at least not in the romance movie kinda way. And I just…I'm sorry for that."

She looks at him sharply. Then her voice is soft. "It's okay."

Seriously? _Seriously?_ That's all she has to say? He tries to keep himself from getting angry. But it doesn't work. "Well, don't go outta your way to apologize back or anything."

She sighs. "What do you want me to say, Finn? I _am_ sorry. But you didn't believe me then, so why would you believe me now? The fact is, even before I got pregnant, we—"

"Before you got pregnant and lied to me about who the father was," he interjects bitterly.

"Shut up!" she snaps. "It's not like you didn't kiss Rachel twice while we were dating!"

He splutters. "Yeah, but—I—we…" She rolls her eyes.

"What I was _going_ to say," she continues, "is that even before I got pregnant, and before you met _Rachel_, we were starting to drift apart a little."

He can't deny it. Rachel may have provided him the out he was looking for in his toxic relationship with Quinn, but they'd already been having problems before that. He'd still liked her a lot, of course. But she was (and still is) so uptight and it was always grating on his nerves, especially because it was always about all the things he'd done wrong because apparently he could _never_ do anything right. And Rachel wasn't (isn't) like that, and it' d been a welcome change.

And maybe in the same way Rachel got tired of comparing herself to Quinn, maybe Quinn got tired of comparing herself to Rachel, too.

"It's okay," he says, mirroring her words. She sends him a weird look. "I mean, it's not _really._ Like, I'm pretty sure what you did is worse than what I did and more than anything, I was pissed about losing a daughter. But you know what? It's not worth being mad about anymore, I guess."

"Why?"

"I love her," he says simply. When she doesn't respond, he goes on, "I realized the other day that when she—well, it doesn't matter what she did…" He finds Quinn's silence suspicious, "You know, don't you?" he demands.

She holds her hands up in defense. "It's none of my business."

He frowns and then decides it's whatever. He's here and doing this and it's not worth getting all buttsore about because he's tired of being miserable and everything.

"Right, well anyway, I realized it kinda brought back everything that happened between me and you and I noticed that even though I definitely didn't forget about what happened, it didn't really hurt anymore. Then I figured, if I could get through all this with you and Puck, I can do it with Rachel because she's worth trying again with."

"You're really in love with her," Quinn states. "It's sort of sickening."

He glowers at her and takes the first bite of his lackluster pizza.

"Would you have broken up with me if I'd never gotten pregnant?" she asks suddenly.

"I don't know," he tells her honestly.

Maybe it's not really all that important anymore. 'Cause he'd given up a baby and she'd given up her life as she knew it. And it's not like he's _glad_ for what happened between them, but he can appreciate the better things and opportunities that have happened to and for him ever since they broke up.

But with Rachel? Well, it's not like that. There's nothing better out there waiting for him. There'll probably never ever be anything better than Rachel. He's pretty sure that most people don't figure out stuff like this when they're in high school, but being with Rachel had made him see that sometimes things just fall into place; sometimes things just _are._ Like, he and Rachel just _are _meant to be together. He knows that now.

So yeah, he'd been hurt and confused after he'd broken up with Quinn. But he'd come to his senses and stuff and realized that he still had the capability to be happy because _Rachel_ made him happy. But after he'd broken up with Rachel, he hadn't felt anything even close to happy until he realized that he'd forgiven her. So he knows that it all comes down to is Rachel.

And really, he's okay with that. More than okay, actually.

He thinks he's finally ready for the new chapter stuff his mom mentions all the time. Before, he'd just keep brushing it aside, but he gets it now. It's not really starting over. It's just adding something new to what you have.

"I don't think I loved you either," Quinn tells him.

"No kidding. Sorry," he adds quickly. "I didn't mean…I just…yeah."

"It's fine."

There's an awkward silence, so he takes a bite of pizza. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Why the _hell_ did you order garlic pizza? Seriously?"

And suddenly they both burst out laughing and Finn feels the last block of ice that's been hanging around in his stomach the last couple months finally just melt away and he feels…_good._

"I don't know," she says between laughs. "It's pretty terrible."

"Thanks," he says quietly when he can look at her with a straight face again.

"For what?"

He shrugs. "For coming here tonight, I guess. And for helping me with like…I don't know. I guess I just feel better about it all now. Like, we can move on and _I_ can move on, ya know?"

She nods.

It's kinda nice. He doesn't really know where he and Quinn are supposed to go from here, but maybe that's okay too. But apparently she's having the same line of thinking.

"So what now?" she asks. "Where do we stand?"

"I don't really know," he replies. "I mean, I don't think just because we're like _okay_ means we should just forget it all happened and forget this conversation happened either. But it's not like I wanna be, like, best friends or whatever now."

"Civil," she supplies. "We'll be civil, but this time it'll all be genuine." She gives a little one-shouldered shrug. "We're fine and I guess that's good enough."

"Yeah." He finishes off his drink. "I'll see you later, Quinn. Take care and stuff." He places twenty bucks on the table.

"Bye." She waves.

He thinks maybe he should have waited and walked out with her, but she didn't seem to care and well, she'd been late anyway. And he wants to get home and go to bed so he can wake up and talk to Rachel tomorrow.

He sings throughout the whole drive home and it feels natural.

Everything is starting to feel more natural again.

When he gets home, he pulls Mr. Schue's envelope out of his desk drawer. He'd shoved it in there after Santana had left and well, then just sort of…forgot.

Anyway, so he opens it, cursing when he gets a paper cut. Paper cuts are kinda the lamest thing on Earth, 'cause if you complain it hurts people just call you a baby and tell you to suck it up. But then they get one and complain and yell at you if you tell _them_ to suck it up. Plus, they're like _tiny_ and therefore don't have any right to hurt nearly as much as they do. It's a bunch of crap.

He unfolds the letter, scanning it quickky.

_Finn,_

_I just want to thank you for what you did for me on Christmas Eve. I know I thanked you all while you were there, but I also know you were the driving force behind the idea. And I want you to know how much it means to me that you all care so much._

_I know things aren't exactly easy for you right now, and I've noticed when you're stressed or feeling out of it, you like to go bowling. So consider this my Christmas present to you if you'd like. But I hope it helps you out._

_Once again, thank you and Merry Christmas._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Schuester._

Finn smiles when a slip of paper falls to the floor. It's a gift certificate to the local Pin-O-Rama for two games…for two people. He's not sure who Mr. Schue was thinking he'd take, but then again, no one goes bowling by themselves. Do they?

Anyway, Mr. Schue is pretty much the most awesome teacher, like, in the history of the planet.

And now he's got a really _bangin'_ proposition (hah, looks like his SAT studying is coming in handy) for Rachel. And he really hopes she'll say yes, because this bowling date will be _so_ much better than their last.

He realizes he actually kinda can't wait to talk to her tomorrow.

He just hopes she still wants him.  


* * *

_So yes? No? Let me know._

Reviews = love :) 


	6. What Feels Natural

**A/N: **_Yeah I know, I know. I said Wednesday. I really wanted to have it up earlier, but life likes to interfere like that. Anyway, here it is, the final chapter. And I sincerely hope it lives up to your expectations. It has more dialogue than the previous chapters, but well. I hope you like it!  
_  
_Thank you so much to all of you who've stuck around and read, alerted, favortied and reviewed. Thank you thank you thank you! And thanks to Tribbith for her continuous support and Kenz-flag-waving =D_

_Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from Glee. This is just for fun._

* * *

He takes a deep, calming breath like Rachel used to tell him to as he walks toward her locker. She's digging through her stuff frantically and he can't help but let his lips quirk a little.

"Looking for this?" he asks as he approaches her, holding up the necklace with the "Finn" pendant.

She jumps and looks at him, startled. Then she frowns. "Ye—I…Hello, Finn."

He smiles easily (and it's _so _nice to be able to do that in her presence again) and pockets the necklace, slouching against the row of lockers, wishing she wouldn't look so tense. "Rachel," he says. Oh _God,_ it's so _good_ to say her name again. It's so good to say it and _mean_ it and not have the bitterness and rage crushing him. But he doesn't know how to ask her; how to tell her anything.

Okay, so he probably should have planned this better, but can you blame him? He'd been so excited—for the first time in _ages._ "What're you doing tonight?" he asks hesitantly. "I mean…I'm just, ya know, wondering…"

"I…_what?_" It's like she can't believe he's asking her. He guesses that makes sense since it's not like she's been in his head the past however long to realize that he's forgiven her and he just _really_ misses her, misses _them._

"Um." He stumbles over his words, just like always. "Look, I can't—it's complicated and stuff. But I just—we just…Come bowling with me tonight? Please?" he adds after a moment.

She looks thoughtful still and he notices that her gaze shifts to his pocket momentarily, but then she looks back up at him and she's smiling and he thinks he'd forgotten how beautiful she is when she looks like that. Her voice is soft and maybe a little unsure, but she says, "Okay."

"Awesome!" He grins. "I'll pick you up at like seven?"

She nods. "I'll, uh, see you later Rachel," he tells her.

As he turns around to go to his own locker, though, he hears her quiet voice. "Finn?" He turns and raises an eyebrow. "Is this a date?"

He gives her a half smile before admitting, "I hope so."

He doesn't give her time to respond though. He just sticks a hand into his pocket, letting his fingers settle against the cool metal of her necklace. He purses his lips and tells himself he can do this.

He can make things right. Or at least do _his_ part to make things right. And he really really hopes Rachel will do hers too.

* * *

Rachel watches dazedly as Finn strides away, wondering if maybe she's been subject to her daydreams again. But her necklace really _isn't_ in her locker (and it's not like she would have misplaced it because she hasn't _moved_ it since she took it off; she just likes to notice it every day). Finn had actually asked her to accompany him to the bowling alley. Finn had actually _talked_ to her. She smiles to herself as she closes her locker.

She _knew_ it wasn't over. And while she can't assume she knows exactly what's going to happen tonight, she's _positive_ this is a good thing for them. Finn wouldn't say he _hopes_ it's a _date_ (there's no way she could have been imagining that part, right?) if he were going to tell her he wants to resume his relationship with Quinn…or…or date _other people._

It worries her still. But her excitement and hope triumph over any of her insecurities. Maybe for the first time.

When she gets home, she goes through her closet because she doesn't know what to wear. She doesn't want to dress up too much—they're going _bowling_ after all; it's not as if he's taking her to a fancy French restaurant (though it's not like she would trust a supposedly-French restaurant in Lima anyway). Of course, she's not complaining about going bowling. She simply just wants to dress accordingly.

Well, that and she doesn't want to come off as desperate. She'd tried that game and it didn't work. Now that Finn's come to her, she's determined to give him the reins on this one, even if relinquishing or at least back-burnering her controlling and take-charge nature is one of the harder things she's had to do. Then again, all stars in the making face obstacles and overcome them.

So she'll be no different (in that regard, anyway. She's incredibly proud of how different she is from teenagers who care more about XBOX and alcohol than their futures, even if it wouldn't hurt to fit in a little more).

She decides on a simple pink and white dress and cardigan, selecting matching knee socks. She misses the way he would compliment her and tell her he likes the way she's dressed. No one else ever really tells her those things and well he didn't _stop_ telling her, she supposes, so much as she refused to let him tell her because he thought Santana was hot.

She sighs. These are all thoughts she's had a million times before and they never help. Especially not now, considering she has something resembling a date with him in less than an hour.

Or she thinks it resembles a date. Because if _he_ hopes it's a date and _she_ hopes it's a date, doesn't that automatically make it an _actual_ date?

She's excited, yes, but she's not foolish. She knows it won't be easy. The two of them can't just jump back into a relationship or even tentative friendship, even if a part of her wishes they could. They have too much to sort out and she's had several revelations about where everything went wrong in the first place over the time she's been away from him. And it wouldn't surprise her if Finn did as well—seeing as he can actually look at her without glowering at her with a thousand knives of pain and betrayal. And he's a lot smarter than everyone gives him credit for. (Besides her, of course—she's always seen Finn for who he really is, and she knows underneath all his naiveté, he has a fine sense of perception that enables him to reason things out and come to certain conclusions.)

She's sure that's why he always tries to rectify his mistakes, regardless of what they are. It's the one thing they have in common.

And honestly, she's really hoping tonight can be a time for _both_ of them to rectify their mistakes.

She takes a deep, cleansing breath and smiles carefully when she hears the doorbell ring at exactly seven pm.

* * *

It's awkward silent in the car and that bothers Finn more than he thought it would. Silence is okay sometimes, but awkward silence with Rachel just sucks. It's like…it's just _wrong_, you know? It's like when it doesn't snow on Christmas or something.

But he doesn't turn on the radio 'cause he doesn't wanna make it seem like he doesn't want her to talk.

Crap.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe he should just tell her he's not feeling well and maybe some other time?

_No,_ that voice tells him. Oh good, he'd been wondering when that would show up again. He really hopes this doesn't mean he's going mental 'cause he's _not_ feeling that. He rolls his eyes inwardly.

But still he doesn't say anything and neither does she. It takes all his willpower not to sigh, but he manages it.

It takes like a million years before they finally get there, but they do and she hops out of his truck neatly, smoothing her dress. He wants to tell her she looks pretty, _so pretty tonight Rachel,_ but he doesn't. 'Cause would that be a little weird? It might. And he doesn't wanna take the risk.

"Um," he says awkwardly, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "Do you want the pink ball again?"

"I…yes, I…that'll be fine." She doesn't look at him and goddamn, he knows they should just get this over with, but he just wants to buy himself some more time. He's been thinking a lot about what he'd say to her. But it's always too mean and bitter or too nice and forgiving. And even though he's already forgiven her, she doesn't need to know that yet. He just needs something…natural. Like, that's sorta how he's been doing and thinking stuff lately. That you just gotta go with what seems natural.

It's like when he used to make out with Rachel all the time and it just sort of became natural for him to kiss _that spot_ on her neck. Like, at first, it'd surprised her. And there were a couple times when he went a little overboard, and she would politely pull away and he'd catch on and just go back to their comfort zone. But she'd gotten accustomed to his fixation on _that spot_ and in the same way it became natural for him to settle his lips there, it became natural for her to say his name in this little breathy moan and—okay, he really needs to stop thinking of analogies that involve him and Rachel kissing and stuff. He clears his throat.

"You can go first," he tells her. She nods, determined, and throws her first ball.

She still kinda sucks at bowling. He doesn't know why, but it relieves him. Maybe it just shows that things haven't changed so much after all. Or at least haven't changed enough that bringing her here is a mistake.

She pouts when she only knocks over one pin and he tells her she still has another ball. "I suck," she says despondently.

He tries not to laugh. "Here," he says, and a little shard of the ice that's in his stomach at the prospect of what this night means for them melts, "I'll show you."

He straightens out her legs, placing his hands on her hips (oh, he hasn't touched her in _so long_ it actually kinda aches) and holds her arm. "You're bending your wrist too much. You do that and the ball's gonna go all over the place." He guides her elbow as she makes her next throw and then it's just like that time last year all over again. 'Cause she knocks over seven of the remaining pins and throws her arms around his neck and he's pretty sure it's sort of unconscious 'cause it's definitely an unconscious reaction of his to hug her back.

And then there's this awkward moment where he wonders if he should kiss her or let her kiss him or _whatever_ because there's so much tension between them—sexual and otherwise—and he just wants it to go away. But then he thinks wait, _wait,_ this isn't how it's supposed to go. Not yet. He pulls away and takes his turn. He's off his game though 'cause he misses the last pin and doesn't get a spare. And yet Rachel still looks at him like he's the most awesome bowler in the world or something and pride kinda blooms in his chest for a brief second. And then he remembers why he's actually here and his confidence falters a little. _Man up, Finn._ Right, okay. Damn it might help if he talked more _outside_ of his head.

He motions for her to sit down. The bowling alley is mostly empty, so it's not like people are going to bitch at them for not hurrying up or something. He orders a couple slices of pizza and frowns. What the hell is she supposed to eat? They didn't really have the whole vegan problem the last time they went bowling.

"I…" he says. "Sorry. Are you hungry? 'Cause I can like…is there anything you can eat here?"

"Really, Finn," she assures. "I'm fine."

"Come on, Rach—el. Rachel." He swallows thickly. "You gotta eat something. They might have like a banana or something. I'll go ask, okay? Hang on."

Rachel watches as Finn approaches the bar and even though she'd told him not to worry about her, it still touches her that he's being so considerate. Perhaps she takes it as a sign he still cares for her and it offers her a bit of relief. She bites her lip as he comes back holding two bananas and an orange. "Thank you," she says.

"Yeah, no problem." He sighs as he sits down again. "Look, Rachel, I—"

"I understand," she tells him softly, looking away.

Erm, what? He doesn't know what she's talking about, but… "No, I mean, like, I _wanna_ do this right. I'd tell you I love you, and I do, but there's no way we can just act like this is our first awkward date or something. I don't wanna start over, Rachel," he adds.

She looks at him then, her eyes wide and searching his. She doesn't know if she understands his meaning, but she's afraid to ask. Or rather, she's afraid of the answer, so she simply waits for him to elaborate.

"I talked to Quinn. And Puck. Well, Puck sort of broke into my house and talked at me but whatever. Anyway, I started thinking a lot and I realized I'd forgiven you, ya know? But nothing's really ever that easy. Is it?" He looks at her and smiles a little. "But like I said, there's no just starting new for us—we have too much history, and I mean goody history too."

She doesn't say anything and he feels like it's maybe a little intoxicating being able to leave Rachel Berry speechless, but he hopes she's speechless in a good way. "I also talked to Quinn and Noah," she tells him quietly.

He purses his lips. He doesn't like to think about Rachel and Puck—it puts hardcore bile in his mouth and violence in his mind—but he's pretty sure she means just talk this time. Still, it puts dark thoughts in his head and he has to shove them down before he just walks out on her—and he doesn't think either of them would be able to deal with that.

"So," he continues. "I guess that leaves just me and you who haven't talked. And I think we really need to. I know it's probably kinda easy for us both to place blame and stuff, but that's not what I wanna do." He guesses he's grown up and all quite a bit since he and Rachel broke up. Because at first it'd been so easy to just say she'd destroyed him and it was utterly her fault. But now he knows better. He knows everything runs deeper than that and he has to make sure she knows that _he_ knows it.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

"Yeah, I know you are. I am, too. I just…man, Rachel when you told me about…what you did, God, I just…it _killed_ me." He scrubs a hand through his hair. "Like I know I messed up and a lot. Not just about Santana and lying, but I did a lot of things wrong, Rachel. But I never woulda stooped that low," he says bitterly.

He notices the insult and determination that flash in her eyes. "Is there a point to making me feel worse about this than I already do?" she asks tersely.

"_Yes._" Wait, fuck. No! "No. I mean, that's not what I'm trying to do. But there's a point. It's just it was easier when everything was happening in my head and stuff and I didn't have to try to, like, explain it and stuff." He takes a bite of pizza. But she's only still looking at him, so he goes on. "Anyway, I was like waiting to just hate you, you know? But it just wouldn't happen. And I realized I kinda pushed you away. Not to say you shoulda done what you did, but I'm tired of thinking about that. I don't even know where to start, Rachel," he sighs.

"The beginning is usually the most ideal place to start," she tells him. He can't tell if she's being snarky or not. Doesn't matter. Either way, she's right.

He opens his mouth like he's gonna say something. But it doesn't work. And just like she always has, she picks up his slack. "You didn't even ask me why," she states, looking away from him.

He looks at her blankly because he doesn't exactly know what she—_oh._ "Well no offense Rachel, but I really don't _care_ why. Like, it's not like any of your reasoning makes it _okay._"

"That's not what I'm talking about!" she snaps. He looks at her, taken aback at her tone. But then her voice softens and she looks all vulnerable and stuff and he feels kinda bad. "I meant you pointed out several times that I was more upset about the fact that you'd…you'd slept—with Santana than about how you lied about it. But you never bothered asking why. That hurt even more."

_Oh._ Oh, shit. Well, he'd wanted her to be honest with him 'cause he's being honest with her. And… "Tell me now," he whispers.

She stares at him. "Yeah," he affirms. "It's too late for us to take everything back, but just…_Why_?" he asks, emphasizing that she should tell him; that he _wants_ to know. Because this is where it all got fucked up in the first place. And maybe if they'd had this conversation before, they wouldn't need to have it now. Well, obviously. But like, there'd be no reason for them to have broken up in the first place, you know?

"Day in and day out," she begins quietly, "Santana makes it her mission to try to destroy me. And I do a decent job of mostly not letting her get to me. I figured it didn't matter overmuch because I had you and you thought _I_ was hot and you loved _me._" She sighs. "I know you wanted to protect me and probably yourself as well. But you could have been honest with me, Finn. _Especially_ when I finally confessed to fabricating my sexual experience with Jesse."

He doesn't say anything. But this time it's not 'cause he's too stupid to get it. It's just…he can tell she's not done yet. And she's waiting for him to interrupt and shoot her down or something. And he's not gonna do it. Because all it would prove is everything she feels insecure about. And he's _not_ gonna do that to her.

"And then when we were in couples' counseling, and you admitted you thought Santana was 'super hot'"—she pulls a face—"and it felt like it did when you broke up with me last year because you wanted to date her and Brittany. I didn't think I could face that again. I shouldn't have stormed out, though. I really wish I hadn't," she adds, her eyes watery.

"I wish you hadn't, too," he tells her. "Rachel, I'm not good with words and I know I fucked up really bad when I didn't tell you. And when I didn't say anything worthwhile in Ms. Pillsbury's office. It's not 'cause I don't think you're hot or anything. _I do._ I didn't…" he trails off.

"You didn't _what,_ Finn? You didn't think it would hurt me to find out about it by being publicly humiliated? You didn't think I would have wanted you to stand up for me when she told me that nobody likes me? You didn't think I'd want you to tell Santana to _shut up_ because I was your girlfriend and you _loved _me?" Her voice breaks and she doesn't even try to hide the fact that she's crying anymore. "You didn't think it would hurt me to know that you'd slept with the one person who's the most unlike me?"

She wipes at her eyes, allowing her hurt and bitterness to finally surface. It's not as if she doesn't want a relationship anymore; she hasn't reconsidered. She'd just repressed so much of what she'd been feeling, she'd forgotten how much it mattered to let it all out; get everything out on the table.

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, frustrated. She really thinks that lowly of him? Goddamnit. "_No,_" he says firmly. "No, I didn't sleep with Santana to _hurt_ you Rachel. And I didn't lie about it to hurt you either. I just…look, she came up to me and told me I was really unsexy and offered to take my virginity and to be honest, I didn't even think about it. Like, at first I was like yeah okay see ya. But then you just kept talking more and more about Jesse and Santana mentioned having sex with her would make you jealous and I figured if you could have sex with someone else, then so could I. I didn't know then that you didn't…_you know._"

He watches her face carefully. Her eyes widen slightly, but not much else changes. "It was awful," he tells her honestly. "I mean, I guess it was awful—I wasn't paying too much attention. But I know when it was over _I_ felt awful. I know it's not, like, cool or whatever but I wanted it to mean something. And I when I realized it didn't, I just felt…dirty. It was like I just wasted a lot of time, but worse 'cause I knew it was something I could never take back. And I thought if I lied about it, if I didn't think about it, then it would be like it didn't happen or something. I don't know. Thinking things through isn't really my strongest suit or whatever. The _point is,_ Rachel. I'm sorry. I wasn't like purposely not defending you. I guess sometimes I just get so used to you being the strong one that I forget you need to be defended and stuff too. I mean, I know that's a stupid reason. But like…it never meant I didn't love you."

Nothing happens. Well, something in her eyes changes, but he doesn't know what it is. He doesn't really know anything, he supposes. Not that it makes anything better.

"You bought her dinner after," Rachel says after a while.

"I did," he says. "But I'm pretty sure if I didn't, she would have beat me up even though she's a girl and stuff. I didn't _offer_ to buy it for her. She told me I had to. It was just a stupid cheeseburger from Sonic. _It didn't mean anything,_" he repeats.

And then her shoulders slump and she's burying her face into her hands and sobbing and _fuck._ How does he _always_ manage to make her cry? He gets up from his seat and kneels beside her. She hestitates and then throws her arms around him and sobs into his shirt. "I am _so_ sorry, Finn," she manages. She looks up again and he carefully brushes her tears away from her cheeks with his thumb.

"I don't like being so insecure," she says. "I didn't mean to imply that you were a terrible boyfriend; you most certainly weren't. But you said you'd done a lot of thinking. And so have I. And I realized I didn't give you many chances to explain yourself after I stormed out on you that day. And I saw you look at Santana in this…this…_way_ and then Noah was asking if I had boyfriend troubles. And I was just _so_ angry and hurt. And I guess I lost my pride…and my sense. And I _know_ it was wrong and I felt so guilty. I wouldn't have slept with him," she says quietly and looks at him earnestly.

Finn sighs. "Yeah," he says. "Look, Rachel. I hate saying this 'cause it's not like I ever thought about breaking up with you, but maybe it was for the best. I mean, we've been apart for a while and I just feel like a different person. Being away from you made me have to think things through for _myself. _And man, when you…I was so…not even just angry. Like, it was different with Quinn. 'Cause it surprised me but only in the way that you'd be surprised if anyone cheated on you. But like…_you._ I know people called all these mean names and stuff, but I've always loved how compassionate you are. And then, oh man. It was like everything I ever knew came crashing down around me."

She starts to pull away, but he places his hands on her shoulders and looks at her, _really_ looks at her. "And it just made things worse when you wouldn't leave me alone. But then you started actually giving me my space, I started getting really conflicted. 'Cause I really missed you, but at the same time I'd be like 'no, she _betrayed_ you,' and I think I was going crazy or something 'cause I kept hearing this voice in my head being like, 'But you cheated on Quinn!' And anyway, I don't know. But Puck came in and started in about how you've forgiven me for a ton of things and we sort of talked and now I guess what's done is done. And then I was like, well if I can get through it with Puck, why can't I get through it with Rachel? You know? And when he told me that you stopped…kissing him, I just, I dunno. I wanted the whole situation to go away." He smiles a little at her and she smiles a little back and he thinks maybe things are finally going the way they should be.

"So I was talking to my mom," he continues, "and she made me realize that before I tried to get through this with you, I had to talk to Quinn. Because it all kinda goes back to that, doesn't it?"

"I realized something similar," she tells him. "That the problem stems from what you experienced with Quinn and Noah and I'd only made it worse." But she takes a slow breath. "But in the spirit of full disclosure…" She looks away again.

Finn feels his heart slam into his throat and he hastily pulls his hands away from her. "No!" she says quickly. "It's not…It's just…I don't know why Noah told you that, but I didn't…_he's_ the one who left…"

He frowns. "Wh—what?"

"I would have!" she insists. "But he told me he couldn't do this to you again and left. And then I felt even worse because he was the first one to break it off. I meant it when I said I wouldn't have slept with him. But I wasn't thinking and Finn, I am _so_ sorry."

Slowly, he returns his hands to their position on her shoulders and she looks at him like he's nuts. And okay, maybe he is, but that's gotta be better than miserable, right? The happy he always felt with Rachel, that's _better_ than this. He knows it is. He'd known it wasn't gonna be easy, right? So it's just time to gear up.

"Okay," he breathes. "Thanks…thanks for telling me, I guess. You're my best friend, Rachel. And you're more than that. I really wish you'd been the one to…yeah, well you know. But you're right. No more lies. No wait, I'm the one who said that originally. Whatever. Anyway, no one's ever gotten me like you do. So I believe you when you say you've been thinking too, 'cause like I said, I know I have. You _are_ my best friend. But God, you're _so_ much more than that too. It makes me look like a girl and stuff, but I don't even care anymore. When I was talking to Quinn, she made us order garlic pizza," he says sourly.

"You hate garlic pizza."

"Exactly! And I was thinking about how you'd never make me eat garlic pizza because you've always cared about what I want and my feelings and stuff. And I realized like when she and I broke up, I know I was an ass to you, and I'm _still_ sorry for that by the way, but then when I really thought about it all I wanted was you. Because you were better, you were what I was looking for. So I just stopped thinking about what happened with me and Quinn. But like, with me and you, there _wasn't_ anything better. Like, it's just you," he tells her quietly.

She brushes a hand through his hair and it feels so familiar and so good and—he sighs contentedly. "You're the only person I've ever been able to call my best friend," she informs him. "But it runs a lot deeper than that, just as you said. And it pains me to say, but I think you're right when you said we needed the time apart. It took Quinn yelling at me—very _rudely_ might I add—to realize I needed to stay away from you for a while. But we both grew up some, I think. So we should embrace the good that's come out of this."

"And what's that?" he asks in that weighted way with his heart beating rapidly 'cause for some reason he feels like this is it; this is the _moment._ And he just really doesn't want it to pass them by.

Her voice comes out barely above a whisper. "We both still love each other."

Yes. _Yes._ "Rachel," he says. It's just her name, right? No. Wrong. It's everything. She's everything and…and being away from her is just…it's not a life he wants.

"Finn," she murmurs. It's such a relief to know that they can work past this; _this_ is how relationships should work, she thinks. They'd both handled the situation poorly before and, she hates to admit it, but immaturely as well. This time, they'd managed to _communicate._ She'd told Finn before that he should be honest with her and she'd be honest with him. And it looks like her efforts had finally paid off. Okay, so he hadn't said they're in a relationship again, but even if they're not, they're certainly headed in that direction, aren't they?

Before she can think about it any longer, his lips are on hers, softly and sweetly at first, and then more urgently. She lets his tongue meet hers and tangles her hands in his hair as his cup her face and she sighs against his mouth. It takes a few minutes before the bar tender glares at them and clears his throat. They pull away and he says, "Wait, hang on."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the necklace, standing up to clasp it around her neck. She has tears in her eyes when she stands up to hug him. "It still fits," he jokes.

But she humors him and grins before a thoughtful expression crosses her face. "Finn, how did you get this anyway?"

He looks at her sheepishly and Rachel's missed that look so much, she almost wants to cry again. "I asked Lauren to pick your locker open. She's actually pretty handy, you know."

She looks at him for a moment before she can't help it; she starts laughing. She hasn't laughed in so long, at least not this kind of laughter; the genuine kind that releases all her tension. "Hey!" he says, mock-defensively. He smirks a little. "I've seen it in your locker a few times and I dunno. I don't really have a lot of money and the minute and I wasn't sure if I should, like, get you a present or something. I don't know. But," he smiles, "it looks really good on you."

Rachel smiles graciously. "Thank you. Truthfully, I've missed wearing it." She looks up at him. "Does this mean…?" She leaves the question hanging.

"Yeah," he says. "It means."

He's pretty sure her smile can't get any wider, but it does. And she launches herself in his arms. And he knows maybe things aren't perfect yet, but they're pretty damn good. And most of what needs to be said has been said. And if they reach more bumps in the road, they'll smooth them over, 'cause at least now they know how to do so. "It's just like a new chapter," he tells her. "My mom says stuff like that a lot and I didn't really get it until now. Like, we're just adding a new chapter to the story we already have. I guess that's the way it should be, you know?"

"I do know." She squeezes his hand. "Come on. I do believe it's your turn again."

"Totally." He grins and lifts his ball and lets her fist bump him when he gets a strike. "I'm awesome," he says.

"And modest," she replies dryly.

He laughs 'cause really, of all the people to make a remark like that? But it's okay, 'cause even if Rachel is maybe a little conceited sometimes, she kinda has the right to be, he guesses. Either way, it's all cool.

She gets another gutter ball, so he readjusts her position again. She knocks down nine pins and he gives her a soft, congratulatory kiss.

They take another break and he eats the rest of his pizza while she nibbles at her banana—and, whoa, okay that was _not_ a good choice of food to get her. He squirms a little and tells her to take her next turn; she obliges.

She's getting more and more gutter balls and honestly, she's doing worse than when they went bowling last year, so he has to keep fixing her stance and—suddenly, as his hands are on her hips and he's standing behind her, he grins. "You're totally sucking on purpose," he laughs near her ear.

She turns her head to look at him indignantly. "Finn, I don't think I like you insinuating that I would throw the game as such for the purpose of encouraging you to put your hands on me! In fact—" But she stops talking when his lips brush lightly over her neck.

"It's okay, Rach," he murmurs. "It's kinda hot."

"I…I…"

He laughs again. "I do think you're hot, Rachel," he whispers against her skin as his grip tightens on her waist. "The hottest, actually. I should have told you more often."

She turns around, still clutching her bowling ball. "It really didn't mean anything?"she asks quietly.

"Nothing," he tells her seriously.

"You promise?"

"Promise."

Rachel smiles softly and sets her bowling ball down momentarily to take his hand and squeeze it.

"It meant nothing?" he asks, mirroring her question. "You'll never do it again?"

"_Nothing,_" she says firmly. "And _never_. You're the only person I want to kiss," she admits.

His lips quirk. "Good to know. Come on." He picks up her ball again, barely able to prevent himself from dropping it on his foot. That was a close call. Damn, that would've _sucked._ Like, he finally gets his girl back and has to go to the hospital 'cause he dropped a damn bowling ball on his toe? He nearly grumbles 'til he realizes that he'd probably look crazy and, right, why is he even thinking about this anyway? "Finish your turn, babe."

He looks at her, wide-eyed, because what if he's not supposed to say that again? Or not for a while? But she only smiles and throws the ball again, _miraculously_ knocking down the rest of the pins without his help. He smirks at her and she promptly ignores it, going to check the scores and scowling when she sees he's won by eleven pins.

All right maybe he was off his game too. But he blames it on being in close proximity to Rachel again 'cause she smells so good and it's really distracting and everything. Whatever. He still won and still gets to see her adorable pout at losing.

He doesn't tell her he didn't have to pay for them 'cause he got a gift from Mr. Schue. That's not really important, is it? Yeah, he didn't think so. The point is Rachel. That's pretty much it. They have all this history together and now they finally get to make more. And _that's_ natural too, he thinks. Being with her, whether they're laughing or making out or sitting awkwardly at her kitchen table like that time Finn met her dads. It's just how his life should be.

He takes her hand as they walk, looking down at her as she looks up at him and they both kinda smile. And it's just right and all that other fairy tale stuff Rachel loves.

Finn? Well, he just thinks it's awesome.

* * *

_And that's a wrap! I'd appreciate your feedback immensely._

On another note, this is the last thing I'll be writing for a while, as I'll be taking a break from the fandom. However, I might post some oneshots I've already written within the next couple days to clear up the clutter in my documents. But anyway, thanks again and I'd love to hear from you all about your thoughts on the final chapter. I hope it didn't disappoint.

_Reviews = love :) _


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